Dreams of Summertime
by CelticHeart
Summary: Modern day EC. Began as a oneshot. Erik is hiding from his past, playing the piano at a resort in the Mayan Riviera. Christine is a college student, working as a maid. Their coming together is explosive after that, only misunderstandi
1. Chapter 1

_A/N This began as a one-shot inspired by a memorable weekend in NYC with a certain group of lovely ladies, but I felt compelled to continue it._

_A special "thank you" to Ms. Numbers for her assistance with the setting of this story._

_Last but not least, my betas – Mandy and Musique et Amour. I really wish I could find an original way to express my gratitude, but until I do … Thank you both. For everything.

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Working at the Mayan Riviera was a rewarding way for a college student to spend her summer vacation. Life was very slow and laid back here, due in part to the oppressive heat and humidity. Christine knew the day she was hired as a maid was the luckiest day of her life. She had a long, empty summer to fill, having just finished her course-work in architecture from Clemson. The next step for an aspiring architect was an internship. She landed a plum internship at an architectural firm in Charleston, South Carolina, but that didn't start until after Labor Day. A summer spent on the beach in Mexico, with no responsibilities other than simple housekeeping, seemed like a dream come true.

She moved easily through the day, cleaning the common rooms. There were suites, also, but those were highly valued assignments reserved for the year-round help. Christine did not care. It left her time to enjoy the after hour events, such as the live music. The man at the piano bar, known only as Erik, was beyond a doubt the best musician she had ever heard. She spent most evenings listening to him as he played while the year-rounders slaved in the suites, long after her duties were finished. Rumor had it that he had been involved in a tragic accident at the Paris Opera House, but Christine cared nothing for idle gossip.

The summer was nearly over when the resort was hit by food poisoning. The guests were fine; the Americans knew better than to eat anything that had come in contact with the water. The full-time staff, however, was not as fortunate. Christine and the other temporary maids were forced into covering the others' hours.

Christine didn't mind the extra work; she was paid by the hour, after all. But she hated that she was going to miss the piano player. He would not be gone when she finished her duties, but pulling a double shift was hard on her body, and she returned to her room for a hot bath as quickly as she could once her duties were finished.

She was used to being the only person on the floor during the day, and she took advantage of the solitude by singing. Though she didn't care for her voice – it didn't seem to sound like any one else's she might have tried to model herself after – it helped her pass the time, and she loved to sing. Especially show tunes. 'Sunrise, Sunset' was very effective when it came to assisting her clean quickly and efficiently.

Erik, returning to his suite early to pick up some sheet music, happened upon her singing while she was cleaning his suite.

He stopped, stunned. The girl had the voice of an angel. Untrained, true, but the clearest, purest sound he had ever heard. Although he typically did not care to talk to strangers, especially not young women, he was entranced by her voice and he deliberately sought her out. He watched her silently as she scrubbed his bathroom, singing song after song.

Unaware that she had company, she made sure she could see her face in the tubs reflection before she stood up, making a face as her tight muscles protested. She had only taken a couple of steps when he spoke to her:

"Your voice ... why have I not heard you sing? Why are you wasting your talents cleaning a strangers _bathroom_ when you should be singing for all the world to hear?" he asked, incredulously.

She jumped, turning around with a start. "Excuse me, Sir, I didn't realize you had returned. I'm finished here now," trailing off, she began to walk around him to the door.

Shooting out an arm, he stopped her with a secure, though loose grip upon her arm. "I have asked you a question, and you've not yet answered me. Are you this rude to everyone who compliments you?"

She reluctantly looked at his face, and was startled again. The left side of his face was gorgeous; his cheek finely sculpted, his eye a beautiful shade of green with gold flecks;_ and his mouth ..._ She nearly glanced down, embarrassed at the thoughts that sprang to her mind while gazing at his mouth, but her eyes continued to travel over his face. She could not hide the shock, and curiosity, in her eyes when they settled upon his mask.

In all of the nights – no _weeks _– that she had listened to him play, she had not noticed that the right side of his face was covered with a mask. It began at his forehead and ended at his lips, stretching from nose to ear.

Without thinking, he tightened his grip as he watched the expressions move across her face. Christine realized she was rudely staring at him, and began to apologize.

"There is no need to apologize," he said smoothly. "But I do expect an answer."

"I don't know how to answer you, Sir. I've never considered singing in public; my voice sounds nothing like what I hear on the radio."

He snorted at that. "If your voice resembled _that_, we would not be having this conversation," he assured her. "With training and practice, you could be singing at the piano bar every night of the week."

"I do not have that much time left. I am only here for the summer, and then I return to school."

He was dumbfounded. "You are willing to waste your gift?" he asked. "For _what_? The opportunity to strain your back, cleaning someone else's bathroom?"

"Im wasting nothing," she retorted. "It is an honest job, and Im not ashamed of what I do." She began to pull away, but his grip on her arm and a spasm in her back stopped her. Using her free arm, she reached behind and started to rub at the sore muscle. "If you will excuse me, Sir, I need to be on my way."

"More rooms to clean?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, I am finished for today. I need to take a hot bath; that's the only remedy for my back."

"I know a bit about back pain. Please, allow me?"

"What do you mean?"

Wrapping his arms around her, he murmured into her ear. "Perhaps you will allow me to rub your back."

Not giving her a chance to answer, he pressed the heels of his hands into her back. At his touch, all rational thought fled. Her arms moved of their own volition, wrapping themselves around his neck. His hands continued their languid movement up and down her back, and she relaxed, leaning heavily into him.

Closing her eyes, she did not even attempt to stifle the moan that escaped her lips as his hands moved over her bottom, cupping each cheek, as he pulled her more tightly against him.

At his insistence, she moved her head just enough to allow his lips to capture hers, and kissed him hungrily. Teasing her, he slowed the pace, tracing over her lips with his tongue. Whimpering as he tasted first the top lip, then the bottom, she dug her fingers into his neck, silently pressing for more. His tongue continued its languid exploration of her lips and she sagged against him helplessly. While his left hand continued its massage, his right hand came up around her back.

She moaned against his mouth, and was rewarded when his tongue slipped between her lips. Feeling his arousal pressed against her belly, she was vaguely aware of moist heat spreading between her legs, heightening with the feel of his tongue filling the depths of her mouth then retreating.

Unable to breathe, she broke the kiss yet he continued kissing her, slowly moving along her neck to her ear. He gently nipped her earlobe, and then laved it with his tongue to ease the sting.

Moaning, she pressed her hips against him as she turned his head again, hungry for his mouth on hers. He lavished rapid, hard kisses on her open lips, and she moved her hand up behind his head, trying to deepen the contact. Smirking slightly against her mouth, he gently pushed her back until her legs hit the bed. He continued forward, wrapping an arm around her to catch her as she began to fall back

Lured to her back, she gazed up at him through eyes glazed over with her desire, feeling one of his legs move between hers. She wrapped her leg over him, trying to increase the contact between their bodies.

Chuckling, he put his hand upon her knee. His eyes never left hers as he began moving it slowly up her leg, drawing small circles with his thumb. He reached her hip and paused for a moment, before sliding his hand under her t-shirt and continuing its move up her body.

She rolled towards him, desperately needing to feel his body pressed to hers, and he took advantage of the opportunity to unclasp her bra. Moving his hand to her breast, he pressed her back down onto her back and drew his thumb in languid circles around her nipple before he lifted her top and put his mouth to her breast.

She arched into him, holding his head tightly as his tongue laved her nipple. Half raising, she rained kisses on the top of his head, sobbing his name as he suckled.

When she thought she could bear no more, he released his hold and though she tried to pull his head up to her face - needing his mouth on hers more than she needed air - he simply moved to her other breast. To torment her further, his thumb and forefinger continued to rub the pebbled nipple that was still moist from his suckling.

Yanking desperately on his head, she was finally rewarded as he released her nipple, then trailed kisses up to her neck. She tugged his head up further, and gasped as his mouth covered hers, his tongue surging into her mouth. Her hips began matching the rhythm set by his tongue and, enticed, his hand slid down her side until stopped by the barrier presented by her waistband. Breaking off the kiss with an impatient grunt, he lifted her slightly and unzipped her skirt.

"Lift up," he ordered gently. She obeyed, mindlessly, and he tugged her skirt down and tossed it to the floor. "Lift up!" he said again, less patient this time and her panties followed her skirt. She sat up and pulled her t-shirt over her head, then reached to unbutton his shirt. He allowed this and shrugged it off once she it was unbuttoned. When she reached for his belt, though, he moved her hand away and pushed her back down onto the bed.

He followed her down, kissing her hungrily as his hand sought the heat between her legs which opened easily for him in invitation. She gasped and broke free of his mouth as his fingers found and gently tortured the center of her arousal. "Ohmigod. Oh, Erik!" she sobbed, clinging tightly to him. Coherent thought fled as the sensations grew, coiling in her stomach, tightening their grip on her. "Please, please, please ... oh, Erik ... don't stop ... _please_!" her cries grew until his fingers brought her the release she was craving.

He raised his head, and looking at her, licked his fingers. She blushed, knowing that it was her that he was tasting, and he smirked at her reaction. Standing, he shed the rest of his clothes before getting a condom from his night-stand. She couldn't help but watch him, fascinated by the sight of his tightly muscled body as he busied himself with sheathing with the rubber. When he turned, and she saw the effect she had on him, and couldn't help but blush a deeper shade of red.

"That is becoming an interesting shade upon you." Chuckling, Erik laid back down beside her. She turned into his arms, and eagerly met his lips with her own. Their tongues continued their dance as his hand resumed its exploration of her body. When he was certain that she was fully aroused and ready for him, he slid his thighs between hers, and shifted so that he was over her.

His penetration – full and deep – triggered her second orgasm, and she clenched her muscles to keep him buried deep inside of her. "Be still," he ground out through his clenched teeth, and stunned, she complied. He buried his head in her neck as he tried to delay his own release; he shuddered as he throbbed with need inside her wet heat. Once he had himself under control again, he grinned at her. "Almost cut this too short, my dear."

Christine blushed again, stung by his seeming criticism. "I'm ... I'm ... I'm so sorry, Erik. I didn't mean ..."

Her words were cut off by his mouth, and once he had silenced her, he lifted his head. "Do not _ever_ apologize for responding to a man's lovemaking," he advised. She smiled, relieved, then pulled his head back down, eager for the pressure of his lips, the taste of his mouth ...

As he kissed her, long and deep and hard, her hips began to move and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He responded instantly, thrusting, as she sobbed his name, once again. He did not believe he would ever tire of hearing his name on her lips as she reached her satisfaction. Finally, he could hold back no longer, and he allowed himself to bury deep inside of her, as his orgasm erupted.

Once sated, he rolled onto his back, pulling Christine onto his chest. She snuggled into his embrace, wrapping her left arm around him. Once the haze of lust cleared and reality returned, she tried to jump up, but Erik's hold on her was firm.

"I need ... I must ... I must go," she stammered, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. Misinterpreting her words, Erik released her.

"By all means, my dear," he replied sarcastically. "My apologies for keeping you from your ... bath."

Christine grabbed her clothes and ran to the bathroom to get dressed. She could not believe what she had done; could only imagine what he must think of her.

Rising from the bed, he reached for his wallet and withdrew a few bills. Turning to Christine as she re-entered his bedroom, he held out the money.

"It is customary to tip the maid, I do believe."

Horrified, Christine tried to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. She turned away from him, gathered the cleaning supplies, and left his suite without a glance back.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N Thank you to everyone who took the time to review Chapter 1. I don't normally go for "sex at first sight" but DoS began its life as a one-shot. Erik and Christine now have the tough task of trying to discover if they can have a relationship outside of bed. _

_Thanks also to my wonderful betas ... Mandy the O and Masque de Nuit. Y'all rock!

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**Christine**

After a night of troubled dreams, Christine was almost relieved when her alarm clock went off. Rising from the bed, she was surprised by how sore she felt. Remembering what had brought that about caused her cheeks to flame with embarrassment.

She quickly showered and once dressed, reported for work. The resort remained short-staffed, and she was once again assigned Erik's suite. She wanted to protest but thought better of it – what could she say after all? With an air of resignation, she went to fetch her cleaning cart.

She moved woodenly throughout the day, refusing to think about what she had done the night before. She cleaned room after room, and then the suites, saving Erik's for last. "Why?", she asked herself with derision. "Do you really think he'll want to see you again?"

She finally found herself at his door and swallowed hard. Following the established protocol, she knocked loudly, announcing her presence then after waiting a few long moments, she used her master key and opened the door.

His suite looked much the same as she had left it the night before. He was obviously a fastidiously neat man, and his suite looked as if no one had been there to begin with.

Reversing her normal pattern, she cleaned his bathroom first, then dusted and vacuumed his sitting room. Biting her lip, she steeled herself and finally walked into his bedroom.

Though the rest of the suite had been immaculate, the bed appeared as if they had recently left it. Flushing deeply, she pulled the sheets from the bed then going to her cart, she picked up a fresh set and made his bed. She did not realize until she saw the drops of moisture on the clean sheets that she was crying.

She dashed at her tears, furious with herself. She quickly finished putting his bed together, dusted and vacuumed his bedroom, then turned to leave. The final 'job' was to collect her tip from the night before and leave an empty envelope for this day's tip. But she could not bring herself to collect the tip envelope, if there even was a tip inside. Instead, she placed the new envelope on top of the one sitting upon the desk. Her duties finished, she left Erik's suite.

Although she typically spurned socializing with the other staff, preferring instead to sit in a quiet corner listening to Erik play the piano, that night Christine joined the other college students for a bonfire on the beach.

Alcohol flowed freely, and Christine, feeling reckless and hoping to avoid another sleepless night, drank until she was quite intoxicated. She was amazed at how amusing her co-workers were, and laughed til she thought she'd pee her pants. Conversation drifted to talk about the full-time staff; from there, it was easy to speculate about the piano player.

Rumors were bantered about, as most of the group speculated about the mask, and although she was drunk, Christine did not join in. Feeling numb, she excused herself and began to leave. A co-worker noticed her leaving and, realizing she was more than tipsy, ran to catch up with her.

"Hold up, Christine!" Rafe called. "I want to walk you back to your room."

Christine stopped in her tracks and waited for him to join her. They continued on their way, and it soon became obvious Christine needed his assistance to get back to her room. His arm around her to steady her, she was looking at him, laughing at something he said, when they nearly collided with a well-dressed gentleman in the hallway. "Excuse me," Erik said coldly, and made sure to walk well around them.

Mortified, Christine wanted to scream at him to stop – she wanted to explain that appearances were deceiving – but the moment passed and he was gone. Leaving her escort at the door, Christine fell into her bed, sobbing.

The full-time staff was recovering from the food poisoning and Christine was not needed in the suites. She finished her rooms, and then returned to her room dreading the long evening stretching out before her. She did not feel like partying on the beach again, and she certainly was not returning to the piano bar! Unfortunately, that left little for her to do. Sighing, she went to the resort's gift shop and picked up a silly romance novel. "Just what I need," she decided. "Fluff."

What she hadn't counted on was crying her way through the book. She finally threw it down in disgust and decided she had enough of feeling sorry for herself. She had three weeks left on her contract with the resort, and she could not afford to give up the bonus she would be paid for fulfilling it. With new resolve, she took a long, hot, relaxing bubble bath, and crawled into bed.

Her resolve to stay was nearly shattered, however, the next morning when she reported for duty. Christine's supervisor, Senora Guerriero, gave out the assignments, then dismissed the maids. With an odd look on her face, the supervisor stopped Christine. "We have received a strange request, Christine. You have been _specifically_ requested; you are to clean Senor Erik's suite from now on."

Opening her mouth to protest, Christine closed it again without a sound. She did not understand, and it was obvious Senora Guerriero didn't, either. With a slight nod, Christine excused herself and began her rounds.

Again, she saved Erik's suite for last. It was with great trepidation that she knocked on his door, calling out to see if he was inside. Relieved that there was no answer, Christine used her master key and entered his suite.

Again, the suite hardly looked lived in. Beginning with the bathroom, she cleaned quickly but thoroughly; she did not want to spend a single moment longer than she had to in his suite. Walking into the bedroom, she stopped, startled. His bed had not been slept in. Not willing to think about that and its implications, she dusted and vacuumed, then returned to his sitting room. She reluctantly took a fresh envelope out to place on his desk and upon its surface, she noticed the previous two envelopes still sitting there. With a shrug, she placed the third envelope on top, then left his suite.

Christine was rather impressed with how well she was accepting this new routine. With the feeling of numbness, she was able to fulfill her housecleaning duties. Rafe checked on her frequently, and she usually agreed to eat dinner with him. Afterwards, though, she retired to her room. She had given up on attempting reading, but the resort had a nice selection of horror movies, and she watched one after another. She realized, ruefully, that she preferred being scared out of her wits to crying her eyes out over Erik. The last thing she did before retiring for the night was cross one more day off her calendar.

Thursday evening, Rafe insisted that she join the others on the beach. At the end of the evening, she reluctantly admitted that it had been better than watching horror movies alone in her room, night after night.

Rafe was escorting her back to her room, when haunting strains of music filled the air and Christine stopped, suddenly unable to breathe. Misreading the look on her face, Rafe turned towards the piano bar, pulling her with him. She followed him, mindlessly, barely realizing that she and Rafe were dancing to Erik's music. The song ended, and Christine was horrified when she realized where she was. She looked around frantically, trying to find the quickest way out of the bar and back to her room and out of this humiliation, but her feet would not move. Rafe finally realized that something was wrong, and with one arm tenderly wrapped around her waist, he led her out of the bar.

_What comes after being numb?_ Christine wondered as she cleaned the rooms on Friday. That afternoon, as she turned from Erik's desk – where now _six_ envelopes laid – she jumped. Standing just inside the door was Erik, an unfathomable look within his eyes.

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**Erik**

Once Christine fled his suite, he threw the money down on the night-stand. _Nice work, old man_ he derided himself. _You ran her off faster than any of the others. What a pity … especially with a voice like that!_ Knowing that he would not be able to sleep, Erik got dressed and returned to the piano bar, where only the tables and chairs were silent witnesses to his self-flagellation through music.

He returned to his suite at sunrise and took a shower. He tried not to remember Christine; the way she sang – _like an angel!_ – as she completed her chores. There was a quiet dignity about her, he realized suddenly. Even cleaning a stranger's bathroom did not disturb her sense of self-worth.

Disgusted with himself, he shook his head and strode over to his computer. Although few were aware of it, Erik was the silent owner of an architectural firm in South Carolina. The internet allowed him to work from anywhere in the world; his property manager was one of the few people he trusted. Sitting down, he rapidly scanned his email inbox. His personal assistant, another trusted friend, received all of his messages first; she deleted those that he did not need to deal with. His company had just won a bid to develop land just west of North Charleston, and his team of architects were spending long hours developing an 'old town' community. Erik enjoyed the behind-the-scenes aspect and was relieved that his employees could be the public face of the company.

Looking up, his eyes fell on his unmade bed, and he was suddenly struck by images of the night prior. He jumped up with a snarl, all but throwing his computer across the room. Knowing that he would not get any real work done this day, he left the resort and headed out to the ruins. He really did not want to run into groups of tourists today, but even that would be better than sitting in his suite, brooding over the events of the night before.

That evening, he finished his last song and stood up to leave. He could not help but notice that Christine's table was empty. _When had I began to notice her there?_ he wondered. _Perhaps it was because she sat at the same table every night for weeks... Tourists never stay that long._

Satisfied that he had only noticed her because of her odd behavior, he left the piano bar. Walking toward the elevator, he was nearly run over by a pair of young lovers. She was obviously inebriated, he noticed with distaste, and his hands were all over her. He was stunned when he realized that it was _Christine_ and some young man. Covering his shock, his voice was cold when he spoke. "Excuse me," he said, as he walked a wide berth around them.

It must have been his imagination – _wishful thinking, _he sneered inwardly – but it almost seemed like Christine was trying to say something to him. _Unlikely, that. She has a handsome young man eager to bed her now. She doesn't need nor want me._ Erik ignored the nagging feeling he had that he was, perhaps, judging Christine a little too harshly.

He spent the night in his sitting room, working on the project that he had neglected earlier in the day. He could not avoid using the bathroom, but he kept the door to the bedroom firmly closed. He was fortunate in that he rarely slept, as it was.

The next day when he returned to his suite, Erik was aware that something was different. He walked through the rooms, looking carefully around, but could not put his finger on what it was. He noticed that Christine still had not touched the tip envelopes, so it wasn't that. There was something … just not right. Then he saw the maid's calling card, and picked it up. _Natalia Rodriguez_ it read. _So that's it,_ Erik thought. _Christine is no longer cleaning my suite._

The more he thought about that, the less happy he was with it. He made a few well-placed calls in the morning, left a nice tip for Senora Rodriguez, and left the suite.

By Thursday, Erik was able to convince himself that Christine was truly no different than the others. He decided that he rejected her Saturday night, just as he had rejected all of the women he had slept with. Feeling rather smug, he was able to take requests at the piano bar once again.

An older gentlemen requested a hauntingly beautiful love song, and Erik was feeling quite pleased with himself as he was able to play it flawlessly. Until he looked up and glanced at the dance floor. Christine was there … in her young man's arms. Erik was lucky that he knew the music as well as he knew his name, because his brain stopped functioning as he stared at the young couple on the dance floor.

The song finally ended, and he watched the emotions dance across Christine's face as she realized where she was. He saw her frantically glance about, eager to escape. _She runs from you still_, Erik sneered, _she despises you so much she can't stomach being in the same room as you!_ With a sinking heart, he saw Rafe tenderly cradle Christine in his arms before leading her off of the dance floor. Erik resumed playing, but he was on auto-pilot, and afterwards could not remember a single song he had played.

By Friday afternoon, Erik was beyond exhausted and had a horrid migraine. He reluctantly returned to his suite, thinking a hot bath would rejuvenate him. He had not noticed the time, and so stopped and stared at Christine, barely able to believe that she was truly there.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N Thank you to my phenomenal betas: Mandy the O and Masque de Nuit. I truly appreciate the time you take with my fics; your suggested revisions have certainly improved them.

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Christine couldn't believe her eyes. Her hands flew to her face as she felt the heat rush into her cheeks. _Damned pale skin,_ she raged at herself.

If Erik was surprised that she was still in his suite, he hid it well. For a few long moments neither spoke nor moved. Christine finally tore her gaze away and looking down at the floor, moved to pick up her cleaning supplies.

"I was just finishing up, Sir," she said in a cold, clipped voice. "Let me gather my supplies and I will be out of your way."

Not acknowledging her statement, Erik said to her, "Have you been considering my offer, then?"

Astonished, she spun around to look at him. He did even not bother to hide his smirk and as the blush upon her cheeks deepened, so did the expression upon his mouth.

Without thinking, Christine flew at him, her right hand raised. He easily caught it and spun her around and jerked against him, then wrapped both arms around her waist. Her back was pressed intimately to his chest, and Christine choked back a sob as she remembered the last time that she had been in his arms.

"It would be wise, my dear, to choose your words _very_ carefully," he hissed into her ear.

"Oh, you … _insufferable _… boor!" she spit out. "How dare you!"

As he tightened his grip, she wiggled against him, trying to break loose. Neither was prepared for the effect their actions were having, and Erik nearly groaned as he felt himself grow hard. He knew he should release her, but could not bring himself to do it. As Christine felt his arousal press into her back, she instinctively softened her legs and relaxed back into his embrace. Had he not been holding her securely, she would have collapsed at his feet.

She arched her back and moved her head to give him access to her neck should he want it, even as a small voice inside her head was giving her hell. _What are you doing, Christine? He thinks you a whore … are you going to prove it?_

He hesitated long enough for that sneering voice to take a physical manifestation and she broke free of his embrace. She immediately went cold and without looking at Erik again, she picked up her supplies and walked to the door.

"It is customary at this Resort to … tip … the maid," Erik said coldly. "I am tired of looking at the mess you've left on my desk." Walking over, he picked up the stack of envelopes and brought them to Christine. Without another word, he slid them into the pocket of her skirt. Still shaken by their earlier embrace she merely stood there, gaping at his audacity. With a final arrogant pat to make sure the envelopes were securely in her pocket he turned to walk away.

He was not prepared for her furious outburst. Dropping her cleaning supplies, Christine reached into her pocket and without saying a word, threw the envelopes at Erik.

One by one they smacked against his back then dropped to the floor. He turned around and stared unbelievingly, first at her face, then at her skirt, then at the floor … where six white envelopes laid mocking him.

Christine suddenly realized she had made a terrible mistake by losing her temper with him. Before she knew what had happened, he was across the room and had grabbed her arms, pulled her into the bedroom, and threw her down onto the bed. She began to roll away frightened, but he sprang on top of her, pinning her down, holding her arms above his head with both of his hands. They both stared at each other for a moment, panting with the sudden exertion.

Erik watched as the anger left Christine's eyes to be replaced by fear, then resignation, then an aching sadness. His anger fled, and he was left with the burning need to gather her close and beg her forgiveness, although if asked, he couldn't have said what she should forgive him for. Humbled, he watched as her tears slowly coursed down her cheeks. Releasing her hands, he traced her tears with his thumb, and she closed her eyes. Leaning down, he brushed his lips across her eyelids, then pressed his forehead to hers.

She shifted a little as she felt the cold mask against her forehead and thinking she wanted him to move, he started to pull away only to feel her arms wrap around his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers.

"Erik," she murmured as his lips finally touched hers. She lifted her head and urged him to deepen the contact, but he floated light kisses on her lips, then her left cheek, finally nibbling on her ear. She could not quite stifle her moan, and his body heatedly responded to her touch, to her wiggling under him, and to her soft moans. He left a trail of kisses upon her neck as he moved to her right ear, then slowly kissing her cheek, he returned to her mouth.

Parting her lips, she captured his lower lip between her teeth and gently nibbled. He allowed her this, and then pulled back slightly before slanting his lips over hers. Nearly breathless with anticipation, she opened her mouth and tugged on his head once again. He groaned slightly and began teasing her mouth with his lips. Christine twisted her head and tightened her grip on his neck, trying to deepen the kiss and taste him. But Erik only chuckled against her mouth, and bracing his hands on either side of her head, lifted up to peer down at her.

He had not considered the affect lifting his upper body would have on his lower body, but he groaned again as his hips pressed Christine further into the bed. Christine whimpered as his legs sought a place between her thighs and was hampered by her skirt. Muttering a curse, Erik rolled off of her and began tugging and pulling off her clothes.

Once she was bare beneath him, he lifted himself upon one elbow and lazily drew his finger from her neck down, between her breasts, down to her navel, where he paused. Christine rolled onto her side and began pulling at Erik's clothes, unbuttoning his shirt with clumsy, eager fingers. Standing, he shed the rest of his clothes, and pausing only to fetch a condom, rejoined Christine on the bed.

She turned eagerly into his arms and wrapped a leg around his. His fingers curling around her thigh, he hitched her leg up further as his mouth closed over her nipple. As he suckled upon her breast, his hand traveled up and down her thigh in a slow caress. Sliding his knee between hers, his hand sought and found her moist heat. His fingers teased her as she rocked her hips, seeking relief to the torment he aroused in her. As his fingers sank deep within her, she sobbed his name, over and over. The heat built, coiling within her, until she shattered with her orgasm. He lifted his head and kissed her deeply as she tightened and quivered about his fingers. She clung to him as the last spasms of her release ended. He deepened the kiss yet further, and she ran her fingernails over his back, urging him on. Her legs tried to work his between hers, but he was unmovable. She broke the kiss, gasping for air, and began pleading with him to take her.

Unable to hide his smirk, he kissed her neck, then trailed his lips down the path his fingers had traced earlier. She blinked at him in confusion as he pulled her down to the edge of the bed. She watched him, still without comprehension as he knelt on the floor between her legs, then gasped as he lowered his mouth to her softness. Her legs rested on his back, her hands clawed at the bedspread as Christine half rose crying out, reaching desperately for his hands. Finding them she grabbed and held onto them, as if she were afraid without his hands to ground her, she would never return to sanity.

Christine could not believe what his mouth was doing to her … she could not believe he could be _enjoying_ it, and she felt slightly guilty at the pleasure she was deriving from his ministrations. Rocking her hips, with her heels digging into Erik's back and her hands clinging to his for dear life, Christine felt the now-familiar coil tighten deep in her belly before it sprang loose, leaving her breathless as the spasms wracked her lower body.

Exhausted and more than a little embarrassed, Christine could do little more than watch as Erik raised his head. At his soft command, she lifted her feet to the bed, and pushed herself further back, trembling. With hooded eyes, he watched her and told her to push back once again. When she was securely centered upon the bed, he raised himself over her. Feet flat on the mattress, legs spread open, she issued her invitation with a rock of her hips. Erik plunged into her hard and fast, triggering yet a third orgasm. Biting his lip, he again ordered her to lie still. With a shudder, he regained control and grinned at her once again.

"Damn, woman, I thought I solved that particular … _problem _… rather thoroughly tonight."

Christine was mortified at her apparently overenthusiastic response to Erik's lovemaking, and he chided her gently. "I'm sorry, darlin'," he said without a hint of apology in his voice, "I'm just toyin' with you."

At that, the fire went out of Christine's eyes, and Erik silently berated himself. "Poor choice of words, but what do you expect from me?" he complained. "This position is not conducive to rational conversation." He flicked soft kisses on her mouth to punctuate his complaint, and smiling up at him relieved, she wrapped her arms around his back and her legs around his waist.

Erik needed no further encouragement and began thrusting … slow … long … hard thrusts. Christine's wits fled her once again and she cried his name as she answered his every thrust with upward rocks of her hips. They each cried the other's name one final time as they found their releases.

Rolling off of her, Erik pulled Christine securely into his embrace, determined to not have a repeat of the last time they made love. He realized, belatedly, that they were lying on top of the bedspread and he was trying to figure out how to get both of them between the sheets. Christine shivered as she was snuggling down, and so Erik reluctantly pulled away from her. "Let's get under the blankets, my dear. You are getting cold already."

Biting her lip, Christine knew there was nothing that she wanted more than to crawl into bed with Erik and stay there … forever. But, as she stood up, she knew she had to leave. After all, she did have to work the next day. And she didn't have her toiletries with her. Christine had never spent the entire night in a man's arms, and she didn't think she was ready to. She could not imagine facing Erik the next day; a blush stained her cheeks just thinking about that. Shaking her head, she bent down to gather her clothes.

Stung, Erik lashed out at her. "I suppose you didn't spend the night in your … _lover's_ arms … last night?"

Christine flinched back as if he had struck her, but still countered with a sharp retort. "How dare you!" she hissed. "Who do you think you are? What do you think _I_ am?"

"I obviously _know_ what you are, my dear," he said with a sneer.

Hurt, confusion, hate danced across her face before she turned and retreated to the bathroom.

Coming back into the bedroom, she thanked him for the tips. After all, she reasoned from deep in her pain, he already thought her a whore. Being a poor college student, she depended on the generosity of strangers to supplement her meager earnings at the resort.

Erik lay in his bed one hand across his eyes, wondering how in the world something so wonderful could turn to shit so quickly.

Christine made it back to her room before her sobs burst forth. Taking a long, hot bubble bath, she allowed herself the release of tears. Once she had dried, dressed, and crawled into her bed, the numbness had stole back in, and her eyes were dry.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N Much thanks to the best betas in the world, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour; y'all are fabulous!**

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_

Christine stumbled into the assignment room the next morning, feeling as if she were moving in a fog. She heard some of the full time maids whispering and saw them pointing at her. Deciding that she was becoming paranoid on top of everything else, she shrugged it off and ignored them.

Christine still did not understand why they had a meeting every morning as the assignments really never changed. Once they had been dismissed, the maids left to begin their rounds. Natalia Rodriguez and a couple of her friends stayed back though, and as Christine passed them, she heard Natalia spit, "That's the one. That's the _gringo puta_."

Senora Guerriero overheard Natalia as well, and asked Christine to remain behind for a moment.

"Christine, why is Senora. Rodriguez calling you a whore?" she questioned.

Christine could not stop the heat that rushed into her cheeks.

"Christine!" she snapped. "You do understand that the consequences for being … indiscrete … with the guests is grounds for termination of your employment?"

"He isn't …" Christine closed her eyes and swallowed. Taking a deep breath, she looked at her supervisor and said, "He isn't a guest."

"A fellow staff member? But why would Senora Rodriguez be jealous of that?"

"Because I replaced her as the maid for his suite," Christine admitted in a low tone. "At his request, or so I was told."

Comprehension dawned in Senora Guerriero's eyes. "You may go now, Christine. But I would like to see you in my office once you complete your rounds. And do not clean Senor Erik's suite today. I will see to _that_ one myself."

Realizing that she would not have to fret all day about running into Erik in his suite, Christine took this news with relief.

Her day flew by, and before she knew it, she was in her supervisor's office. Not only was Senora Guerriero there, but also the Property Manager for the Resort and the corporate attorney. Christine tried to hide her alarm as she was introduced to the group gathered there, and accepted the proffered seat gratefully.

"Christine, my dear, we have to ask you. Did Senor Erik …" pausing, she glanced around the room. Taking a deep breath, she resumed. "Did Senor Erik force himself on you at any time?"

Horrified, Christine burst out a quick and vehement denial. She was slightly embarrassed at how that sounded, but she could not let Erik's name be smeared in such an awful way, even if their encounters have been curious and questionable.

"Please, my dear, we understand that young ladies tend to … romanticize … sexual encounters. Are you certain that he did not force himself on you, by way of a threat, intimidation …"

Christine stated a firm "No!" The others glanced at each other, and her supervisor thanked her for her time.

Understanding she was being dismissed from the meeting, Christine rose and walked towards the door. But once there, she turned to the group and asked, "Why would you question me about Senor Erik's behavior?"

The attorney did not want that question answered, but Senora Guerriero insisted that Christine could be trusted. "Senora Rodriguez filed a formal complaint about him today, Christine. She claims that he … forced himself on her … several times this summer, and she was terrified to report it until she had been relieved of the duty of cleaning his suite."

Christine promptly walked back to her seat and sat down. "That is the most _ridiculous_ thing I have ever heard!" she exclaimed indignantly. "First of all, she was replaced several days ago, yet she just complained today? Second of all, I had not been collecting the tip envelope from his suite until last night. Each one held a sizable amount of money. Perhaps Senora Rodriguez grew dependent on his tips?"

Waving his hand, the Property Manager ended the discussion and Christine had no choice but to leave her supervisor's office. She was furious, though, and needing to vent her anger, she went to the resort's exercise room.

It was deserted at this hour as most of the guests were getting ready for dinner. Christine worked the equipment with great determination, knowing that she would be sore the next day. _Oh well, she thought. At least sore muscles are a pain I can deal with._

Christine had nearly finished her rounds the next day when Erik accosted her in the hall.

"I suppose you think I am grateful for your little act of interference on my behalf," he sneered at her.

"I didn't 'interfere on your behalf' for you, Erik. I did it for me."

"Oh, really, my dear? You'd rather be thought a whore than a victim?"

Christine struggled to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes at his words. "I don't know why you like to be so cruel to me," she began. "But I do not deserve that. What I meant," she continued, stopping his attempt at cutting her off, "is that I knew Senora Rodriguez was lying. I had to tell what I knew … that's what I meant when I said I did it for me."

"I do not _need_ your help!" he roared at her. "Stay out of my business. This is not any concern of yours."

"So tell me one thing, and then I will leave you and your business alone," Christine said pleadingly. "Were the tips you left me …?" her voice trailed off; she realized she could not ask him the question after all. And she certainly did not want to hear his answer.

He smirked at her, and allowed his eyes to travel down her body, then back up again in a way that made Christine's insides twist into a painful knot. Looking her straight in the eye, he confirmed her worst fears: "Your _tips, _my dear, were for services rendered above and beyond the call of duty."

Although the blow was not physical, Christine stumbled backwards, nearly losing her balance as if she had been struck, her hand raising to her mouth. She spun on her heel and all but ran down the corridor to the service elevator. She had to get away from him; she had to get out of there fearing she was going to throw up.

Watching her flee, knowing he had wounded her terribly, Erik felt a rare stab of guilt. Shrugging it off, he told himself that it was for the best. He did not need her help. He did not need her. He did not need _anyone_.

Rafe was waiting for Christine when she returned to her room. She tried to hide her tears, but at his sympathetic embrace, the floodgates opened and she sobbed her heart out. At some point, Rafe had taken her room key and nudged her inside, away from curious eyes.

When she finally stopped crying, Rafe asked her what had happened. Christine was torn; she did not want to tell _anyone_ what Erik had said to her. On the other hand, Rafe certainly had a right to know, the poor man had nearly drowned in her tears!

Although Christine wanted to talk, her throat was raw and parched from her tears, and she choked a few incoherent words out. "Erik ... Senor Erik ... my supervisor ... the tips ... she lied ... he said ..."

Indignation, coupled with hurt disbelief, suddenly surged through her, and she continued in a stronger voice. "Oh God, Rafe, you wouldn't believe what he said to me!" Her indignation was spent as suddenly as it had appeared, and she dissolved into sobs once again.

Shaking his head, Rafe went to make her a cup of tea. By time he returned, Christine had fallen asleep, the tracks of her tears still running down her cheeks. Covering her with a spare blanket, Rafe decided he was going to confront Erik.

Rafe searched the grounds, but could not find him. He debated about reporting the incident to the Property Manger, but once he began talking, he realized that he really had nothing concrete to report. Frustrated, he returned to Christine's room to check on her. She had awakened, and he asked her to tell him everything. She begged him to drop it, and he very reluctantly agreed.

"I know just what you need, Christine!" Rafe exclaimed. "We'll go to dinner, then find some fun. Freshen up and I'll be back "

Deciding she really was too young to spend Saturday night holed up in her room, Christine agreed.

After dinner, Rafe suggested they go to the piano bar. Christine didn't have the heart to refuse him, and steeling herself, she entered the bar. Rafe chose a much better table than the one Christine had occupied for most of the summer, and they danced the night away in each others' arms. Christine could almost forget – for a few moments at a time – who the piano player was … and what those hands had done to her.

Leaving the piano bar that night, Rafe questioned Christine about her plans.

"I go back to college after Labor Day," she said. "Actually, I'm starting my internship."

"Really?" asked Rafe. "Where?"

"An architectural firm in South Carolina," Christine answered. "It has a really unusual name, but it's been awarded a contract for an 'old town' traditional American 19th century village. I'm very excited about it, Rafe."

"Well, congratulations," he replied. "I guess this means I can't talk you into transferring to Tulane ?"

"Transferring to Tulane? My course work is done, I've just the internship to complete. Besides, it's nearly the end of August, Rafe! Even if I wanted to, it's much too late for the Fall semester."

He grudgingly conceded she was correct, then asked her if she had plans for the Thanksgiving weekend break.

Christine laughed out loud at that, shaking her head. November was way too far away to make plans for now.

Erik had begun to step into the hallway but pulled back into the shadows of his room's doorway when he heard Christine burst out laughing. He couldn't help but think bitterly to himself that she certainly had recovered quickly. Thinking it over, he decided she was an amazingly talented actress.

Rafe spent every spare moment he could with Christine over the next couple of weeks, and Erik was annoyed to see how often he spied the two of them together.

Management at the resort completed their investigation into Natalia's claims and, finding that they were unfounded, fired her.

Most of the part-time college staff had to leave the last weekend in August, so the resort threw a going away party for them in the _Playa del Cantina_, complete with karaoke, the last Saturday in August. Christine attended with Rafe and the liquor flowed freely. Rafe urged Christine to sing a duet with him, and she finally acquiesced.

The piano bar had closed for the evening, and Erik had to walk past the _Playa del Cantina_ on his way to his suite. He could not believe the awful caterwauling sounds emanating from the room, and was disgusted to realize he could hear them clearly while waiting for his elevator. Just when he had enough and was going to take the stairs up to his suite, Christine and Rafe began their duet.

Singing of undying love and promises not to be broken, their voices merged and soared. Erik stood outside the _Playa del Cantina_, stunned, wrapped in the spell of her voice, and realized that one truly can feel one's heart break. The song ended and deathly silence fell over the room, before being broken by enthusiastic and rowdy applause. With his hand to his chest, Erik moved blindly away, past the elevator and out into the dark. Nobody noticed the solitary figure pacing the beach that night.

Once the party was over, Rafe and Christine stood outside the door to her room. Taking her in his arms, Rafe pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. Putting her arms around his neck, Christine tried to respond but she couldn't. Rafe's kiss was merely pleasant unlike the heated one she had experienced before. Her body remembered another man's kiss, another man's touch, and Christine reluctantly broke the embrace.

Rafe apologized for rushing her and gently wished her a good night. He was leaving the next day, but promised he would seek her out before he left.

True to his word, Rafe found Christine at breakfast the next morning. He again asked her about the Thanksgiving break, and Christine, feeling a stab of pity for the young man and longing for happier, simpler days, agreed. He decided he would fly into Charleston, then they could drive together to Savannah. They walked out together, and he gathered her into his arms and began kissing her. Christine stood there, unmoved, wishing that she could somehow start feeling something … _anything!_ … in Rafe's arms. She broke the kiss off, and giving Rafe an apologetic look, rushed back into the Resort.

Rafe stood there for a few moments, watching her flee, misunderstanding her difficulty. He swore under his breath, and the masked man he cursed smiled grimly, before turning away, disgusted with himself. _She means nothing to you … nothing! It matters not who she is with or what she is doing._

As Erik returned to his suite, he wondered how long it would take for him to make himself believe the lie.

Christine's final week at the resort fairly flew by. Because the majority of the part-timers had left to return to college, she had additional rooms assigned her. She didn't mind the extra workload. Not only did the additional money come in handy, it kept her busy enough that she didn't have time for a self-pity party. It was even more of a bonus that she fell into bed every night, too exhausted to brood.

Finally, Labor Day arrived and Christine left the resort. Before she left, Senora Guerriero thanked her, gave her the bonus she had earned by completing her contract, and invited her to return the following summer. Smiling politely, Christine thanked her and left. Had she the fore-thought to turn around and look up, she may have seen a man standing in his window, watching her go.

Erik convinced himself that he could finally find the peace which had eluded him since she intruded so rudely into his life. It did not take him long to conveniently forget – or refuse to remember – that he had any part in their tumultuous relationship. No, it was much easier to blame the entire mess on Christine, and he finally felt a certain relief that she was really and truly gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N Thank you to my wonderful betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour. I've said it before, and I'll say it again … Y'all rock!

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_**

Charles Towne Village was the talk of Charleston. All of the area's natives were excited by the prospect of the new development. With miles of sidewalks and bicycle paths, it was designed to replicate small-town America at the turn of the 20th century. While the concept was simple; the project was not.

The village was to consist of a variety of public buildings and five models of housing; each model had several variations. In addition, the largest lots could hold custom homes, but all buildings were to be designed by the architects of Rue Scribe and Associates, LLP.

Christine and five additional interns reported for work the Tuesday after Labor Day. Fortunately for the interns, RS&A owned one of the large homes on the Battery, so Christine did not have to compete with students from The College of Charleston or the South Carolina Medical University for the limited amount of affordable student housing. Cadets at The Citadel were housed in dorms and thus did not add to the fierce demand for housing.

RS&A hired two students a year for a 3-year internship. Christine and Meghan were the two interns hired this year. Andre and Joe were the 2nd year interns. And Carlene and Pete were 3rd year interns, hoping to be hired by the firm upon successful completion of their internships.

Determined to forget Erik, Christine enthusiastically threw herself into learning the ropes at RS&A. She was assigned to the department responsible for the public buildings. In addition to a variety of stores, the plans called for a barber shop, a beauty salon, a bar, a pool hall, and professional offices along AMain Street. A community center, complete with an auditorium, gym, pool, and exercise rooms, would serve the recreational needs of the villagers. There was even to be a branch of the Charleston County Public Library in the village and several churches had expressed interest in the project. In addition, the nearest public school was only a short walk away; and a bus stop was added for middle and high school students.

The public building department was a group of thirty architects headed by RS&As Project Manager. They were divided into teams which were responsible for the stores, the service buildings, recreational facilities, professional offices, and the library. Christine was a little disappointed to be assigned to the library team.

Her first assignment was the researching of new library building projects around the U.S. RS&A had its own library, so she went off to find it. She was surprised to discover both librarians were also architects, but quickly realized the necessity of this as they showed her around the research facility. Head spinning from all of the information and sources they had given her, she sank into a chair in the computer lab. Logging in, she began doing the searches the librarians had suggested. She could not believe what she was finding; libraries were no longer buildings full of books being guarded by shushing spinsters.

Instead, many of the new buildings included gift and coffee shops, a snack bar, and an area designed specifically for teens. Children's areas in the larger buildings were divided by age group, and not only did each area have its own computers and print collection, they also had toys, puppets, even an area for small science experiments. Finally looking at the clock she was surprised to discover the day was nearly over and she decided to check into taking a field trip the next day to some of the CCPL branches.

Leaving the RS&A building, Christine joined the other interns for a night on the town at one of the bars, The Cougars Den, on Market Street, where they compared notes on the different departments. Joe had been assigned to the professional office buildings, and was rather smug about what he considered to be the plum assignment. Before they could debate whether this was true or not, karaoke started, and they all took turns belting out their favorite pop songs.

Christine spent the rest of her first week visiting the other branch libraries, speaking with the staff and observing. She compiled a list of items she thought should be considered in preparation for the project planning meeting scheduled for Monday morning. All in all, she was quite pleased with her assignment, despite her earlier disappointment.

Friday evening, the six interns met at The Cougars Den. It was _much_ busier than it had been on Tuesday evening, and Christine began to regret her decision; the crowd was a little overwhelming. Pressed between a couple of Cadets, she lost sight of her fellow interns. They invited her to a game of "beer pong," and intrigued, she agreed.

Beer pong consisted of nine cups of beer, two teams, and ping pong balls. The object of the game was to land your ping pong ball in one of your opponents cups of beer. If you did so, he/she had to drain the cup. Each team consisted of the player and one helper, whose sole function was to try to distract the opponent.

Christine laughed and stood behind one set of cups. Grimacing at the wet, dirty ping pong balls, she hoped her opponent was easily distracted, especially since she did not have a teammate to help her.

Christine did have one distinct advantage over her opponent. She had only had one beer, and so was not nearly as tipsy as he. Looking him straight in the eye, Christine began to unbutton her blouse. His eyes followed her hands to her placket, and he stared, hoping her blouse would open to reveal what was beneath. He never saw the first ball; he jumped, startled, when he heard it hit the cup of beer and fall in with a plop. Grinning, he fished the ball out, then drained the cup. Christine could not believe her sudden good luck, but the next two balls also hit their marks. She missed on the fourth toss and gritting her teeth, waited for her opponents. He pitched the ball back, and it bounced away harmlessly.

Christine was rather suspicious; she could not believe her opponent was _that_ bad. At the end of the night, however, he was drunk beyond caring that he had been soundly trounced by a beautiful young woman who had never played the game before in her life.

Looking around, Christine could not find her house mates, so deciding to head home by herself, she went to the curb and hailed a cab. Unlocking the door to the RS&A house, Christine was amazed that her first week was already over. She had decided to concentrate on her internship and her relationship with Rafe and it seemed to be working.

Ready for bed, she turned on her computer to check her email. Rafe had sent her a funny story about Rush Week at Tulane, and Christine rolled her eyes as she read it. Never a joiner, she did not understand why other students were so enthralled with fraternities and sororities and all that. Huge waste of time and money, in her opinion.

Christine decided to visit Market Street on Saturday, and wandered leisurely through the stalls. She loved the sweet-grass baskets, and stood watching the women weave them as taught in the Gullah tradition. She was amazed, listening to what seemed to be easy banter flowing back and forth, because she couldn't understand a single word they said as they chattered in Gullah. Jostled by other customers, Christine realized she was staring rather rudely at the women, and picking one basket she especially loved, made her purchase and began to leave.

The food at The Cougars Den was supposed to be outstanding, and the prices for lunch much more reasonable than for dinner, so Christine decided to stop for lunch while she was out. Her waitress took her order with a smile. Her food arrived a short while later, and Christine dug in, enjoying the well-cooked meal.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Surprised, Christine looked up to see the manager standing at her table.

"I am sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I heard you singing karaoke on Tuesday night. I like your sound and I think you would fit in well here. We have a band, and they are good, but a female singer would add an extra edge to their act. Would you be interested in singing on Friday and Saturday nights?"

Christine stared at him, dumbfounded. Realizing she looked rather ridiculous, sitting there with her mouth hanging open, she closed it. At a loss for words, she opened and closed her mouth a couple more times; her mortification was complete when the blush started at her chin and spread to her forehead.

After what seemed like several long moments, Christine finally found her voice. "Sure, well yes, that is, if you want me to I would love to." _It will do me good_, she thought. _Give me a reason to be out and about on the weekends._

Pleased, the manager reached for her hand. "Rick Aimes," he said. "And you are?"

"Christine Davies."

"Well, I am pleased to meet you, Miss Davies," he said as he held her hand a little tighter than she was comfortable with. With a final squeeze, he let go of her hand and moved away.

Christine settled her bill and stood to leave. Although Rick Aimes made her a little uncomfortable, she was pleased with both the offer and her decision.

Before she could move away from her table, Rick was back. "I should have asked you this when you first agreed to be our singer," he said with an apologetic smile. "Is there any chance you can start tonight?"

Deciding there was nothing she would rather do, Christine agreed. "What time do I need to be here by?"

"If you are here by 6:00, you'll have a chance to meet with the band before you go on. There are two sets, one at 8 and a second at 11. Oh, and your meal is included." Before Christine could respond, he continued, "You'll need to work with the band, but youll probably be able to choose your own songs. Or take audience requests."

As she said good-bye, she hoped the band would also be there by 6 PM so that she could meet with them and hear what songs they preferred to play.

Returning to the house, Christine found the other five interns in various stage of lazing around. Meghan noticed how bouncy Christine was, and asked her about her good mood. Christine told them what had happened, then eagerly raced upstairs to figure out what she could wear for her first professional gig. The other interns exchanged worried glances, but none of them felt they knew Christine well enough to warn her that the powers-that-be at RS&A may not be nearly as thrilled with her part-time job as she seemed to be.

Christine finally decided to wear tight black jeans and a black beaded halter. She loosely piled her long brunette ringlets on top of her head, and carefully applied her makeup. A pair of kitten-heeled sandals completed her outfit, and looking at herself critically in the mirror, decided she would do.

It had not occurred to Christine to ask the manager what type of music the band played on Friday and Saturday nights. Not being into popular music, Christine dreaded finding out that was all that the band played. She had worked her stomach into knots by the time she reached the Cougars Den.

Meeting the band, she was delighted to discover they were a jazz band. She went through their music, thrilled that she recognized many of the songs. They agreed on a program, and Christine went to eat a light dinner before the first set.

Once she started the night's performance, the evening flew by. Before she knew it, both sets were over and she was being accosted by every man in the bar. The band crowded round her, though, and spirited her through the adoring crowd. Christine was a little shook up by this, but the band assured her they would make sure she left the bar, unharmed, every night.

Christine arrived home before her house mates, and decided a cup of tea sounded divine. Once it brewed and she was ready for bed, she checked her email and discovered Rafe was online. She excitedly told him about her new part-time job, and he vowed to come to Charleston at least once that semester. Hearing Meghan come in, Christine logged off the computer and went to find her.

Meghan squealed when she saw Christine, and running to her, hugged her. Christine, caught off-guard by this, laughed softly, then opened her mouth to speak.

"How was your evening, Meghan?" The two women looked at each other aghast as Christine's voice was a hoarse croak. Alarmed, Christine had no idea what had happened; her throat was just starting to become sore.

She spent much of Sunday in silence, fretting over what this would mean to her Friday and Saturday night gigs.

She finally went to the after hours clinic at the Medical Center, where the staff sprang into action as soon as she registered. This puzzled Christine; she was not the only patient in the waiting room, and her condition, although annoying, certainly wasn't life threatening. And yet, she was ushered into an examining room before she could take a seat. Trying to ignore the disgruntled looks shot her way by the other patients, Christine meekly followed the nurse who had summoned her.

The nurse had just left when the young resident appeared. Examining her, he declared, "You are allergic to smoke. Did you warm up before performing?"

Christine looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"You cannot simply get on stage and sing for several hours with no practice, no warm-up," his voice trailed off. "I'm afraid, Christine, that you must rest your voice for at least a week. And, I would suggest hiring a vocal coach before you embark on a singing career. You must also avoid secondhand smoke."

Disheartened, and feeling very foolish, Christine left the clinic.

Although rarely at the office, Erik still approved all new hires, including the interns. He remembered approving a "Christine Davies," so he pulled up her file. His heart started pounding as he stared in disbelief at the picture on his monitor.

Unbeknownst to Christine, RS&A monitored all email and chat room activity on their network. Erik was reviewing the logs when he discovered Christine's adventure into professional singing. Furious, he placed a few telephone calls; the wealthy owner of one of the most prestigious firms in town was not one to be denied. Therefore, the staff at the after hours clinic was not only expecting her, they knew exactly what to say. Examining Christine's throat, the young doctor was amazed. Erik Leboeuf certainly knew what he was talking about.

Once he was satisfied that her premature entry into professional singing was over, Erik decided against alerting her immediate superiors at RS&A. He really did not want to tip his hand; he preferred that Christine carry on her online correspondence in ignorant bliss, unaware that he was reading every word she typed.

Erik did not care to think about why he was watching her so closely.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N I cannot thank my betas enough ... Mandy the O and Musique et Amour are phenomenal ... I am one lucky author!

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**_

The rest of the day flew by in a blur. Christine worked on her presentation for the project planning meeting scheduled for Monday morning. She put together a power point presentation, taking care to ensure that her key points were well made. Her nerves were frazzled just thinking about the meeting and knowing that she could not talk made things that much worse. Therefore, she wanted a presentation that would speak for itself.

All of the interns had project planning meetings on Monday, and by late Sunday night, nerves were frayed and tempers short. Once Christine was satisfied that she could not improve her presentation, she signed on to her internet, and finding Rafe on as well, she sent him an instant message, then spent the rest of the evening outlining it for him.

Reading her messages, Erik decided that he needed to make an improvement or two to the RS&A conference rooms, and so sent a message to his Administrative Assistant. He wanted remote access enabled from every conference room, so that he could "join" whatever meeting was in progress and "see" exactly what was being presented. It was too late for this week, of course, but an email to John Campbell, the Project Manager, ensured that Erik would receive Christine's power point presentation.

It was when he realized that he was reading both her professional and personal messages that Erik grew disgusted with himself. _So this is what you're reduced to, Erik? Stalking a young woman who has no interest in you? You certainly are pathetic._

Christine's presentation was well received. Although still in the preliminary stages, the plan for the library branch called for a two-story, 30,000 square foot building. Christine suggested that the entire 2nd floor be devoted to the juvenile area, and included two different program rooms and offices for staff. The first floor would house everything else: the adult and young adult areas, meeting rooms, and the technical services department, the coffee shop, and the Friends' gift shop. Christine left the meeting quite pleased with herself, and with renewed enthusiasm, began fleshing out the plans for the first floor.

Being unable to talk, Christine decided to cook dinner at the house, then spent the remainder of the evening chatting with Rafe. When she was first hired to sing at The Cougar's Den, he had promised to come to Charleston and spend the weekend with her. Now that she was no longer performing, she assumed he would cancel his planned visit.

Rafe, however, had no intention of canceling his visit. He missed Christine terribly, and decided he would fly to Charleston at least once a month to visit her. He also intended to convince her to spend Thanksgiving weekend at his parents' home in Savannah. But for now, he contented himself with simply being Christine's friend.

* * *

By Wednesday night, Christine was concerned that she was leading Rafe on. She liked him very much – he was pleasant to spend time with – but she knew their relationship was not going anywhere. She didn't want to presume anything, so she did not bring the subject of their relationship up in their conversations. For her own peace of mind, though, she decided that Wednesday night was going to be a "spa" night for her. She went online long enough to let Rafe know that she would not be able to talk to him that night, then turning her computer off, she gathered her toiletries and headed for a nice, long, hot bubble bath.

When RS&A bought the house on the Battery, it had been broken up into apartments. RS&A gutted the interior, then restored the first floor to its former glory. The only nod to the 21st century was the completely modernized kitchen, and the HVAC system. Each floor had its own furnace and central air conditioning unit.

The bedrooms on the second and third floors were remodeled into suites. Each intern had his or her private suite, consisting of a bedroom, sitting room, and bathroom. Cable television and network connections were installed in each sitting room. RS&A had debated about using a wireless network, but since it was expected that the interns would do some RS&A work from their home, wireless was rejected over security concerns.

Christine turned on her stereo and ran her bath-water. Climbing into the oversized, claw-foot bathtub, Christine gratefully sank into the hot water and the fragrant, magnolia-scented bubbles. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and let the hot water envelope her and her senses...and as a piano concerto filled the air, Christine could feel Erik's chest against her back, his arms wrapped around her.

Leaning back into him, she giggled a little at the thought of how good he was going to smell after taking a scented bubble bath with her. She stopped giggling once he growled in her ear, then nipped at it. She tilted her head to allow him better access to her neck, and his hands ran slowly up and down her body. Needing his kiss, she frantically tried to turn her head, but could not. She could not stifle her moan as one of his hands found a breast, the other the softness between her thighs.

Resting her head back onto his shoulder and arching her back, she spread her legs to give him better access. As he continued to caress her, wave after wave of shuddering pleasure washed over her. The thought crossed her mind that she should turn around so that he could enter her, but lethargy crept in after her release. She did wonder why he didn't turn her around, but it was a fleeting thought. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against Erik and allowed herself to drift.

Only to be suddenly aware that the water had grown cold and the bubbles were gone.

Leaning back against the cold porcelain, she blushed hotly as she remembered her dream. Disgusted with herself, she quickly climbed out of the cold water and dried off with a thick bath-sheet. Once in a fresh nightgown, Christine crawled into bed and willed herself back to sleep.

Waking with a start, Erik blinked several times, rapidly. Running his hand through his hair, he leaned back with a heavy exhale as the memory of his dream washed over him. It was so real, he was amazed that he was sitting in his recliner, not lounging in his tub with Christine in his arms. Closing his eyes, the scent of fresh flowers wafted through the air and he groaned, forcing himself to get up out of his recliner. Smoothing his clothes, he grabbed his passkey and went down to the piano bar, where he spent the rest of the night, pounding out his sorrow and his fury on the hapless instrument.

Erik spent much of the next day talking with his Administrative Assistant and Project Managers. He was eager to get the floor plans for the various houses finalized so that the builders could begin on the models. Once the models were finished, lots at Charles Towne Village could be sold to new homeowners. The developers were very hands-off, but Erik knew that if the money did not start coming in soon, that would change.

The piano bar was open Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights from Labor Day until the American Thanksgiving weekend, so Erik was kept busy. Not that he needed to concentrate on the songs, but playing allowed him to lose himself for a time in the music. After his dream on Wednesday night, Erik grimly decided that was exactly what he needed to do. Sunday morning, then, he began working on yet another new opera ... which would never be performed.

His opera began after the tragedy. A lonely man, a hermit, an outcast, really, running from his past. Erik refused to remember the tragedy; he would not immortalize it by including it in his opera. No, the opera began once he was out of the hospital, in a land far from home. Most of his compositions retained a disturbingly sorrowful tone, so it was with some amazement that he listened to the notes pouring forth from the piano. Yes, it began the typical way; sad, mournful music decrying the tragedy. But, unlike the others he had composed in the intervening years, this one began to change. He was not sure exactly, he could not put his finger on it, but the mood changed from grim tragedy to guarded optimism.

He recorded the notes on his blank music paper – he was much too disciplined a composer to risk letting the music get away – once that was done, he rose from the piano. He would not allow himself to contemplate what this change meant; he would not allow himself to think about the young woman whose memory brought the change about.

A hurricane watch had been issued for Charleston and its barrier islands, so the planning meeting the following Monday dealt with emergency preparedness. Charleston had not been hit by a hurricane since Hugo in 1989, and most of the staff had never had to deal with the possibility of a hurricane. RS&A's maintenance staff was responsible for boarding up the house on the Battery, if that became necessary. The entire firm would be moved further inland to a hotel in Columbia. Christine thought that was a little extreme, but having never lived through a hurricane, held her tongue.

As the week went on and the hurricane moved steadily closer to the US Coast, the tension at RS&A became palpable. The hurricane warning was finally issued on Friday morning, and RS&A employees and their families were evacuated. Friday afternoon was spent pool-side; and dinner Friday night was held in the hotel's banquet room. Although Christine had brought her laptop, the hotel's network was wireless, so she was not able to go online. RS&A policy mandated the use of "wired" networks, ostensibly for the sake of security. She wondered if Rafe was concerned about her; if he was, he would probably be the only person.

For some reason, sitting in a hotel room during a hurricane evacuation, that realization depressed Christine. She wasn't quite sure why; being an orphan, she should have been used to it by now. But she wasn't, and she sat huddled alone on her bed, wishing that someone, somewhere cared enough to be concerned about her.

Watching the hurricane from the Mayan Riviera, Erik spun into action. He called his Administrative Assistant and instructed her to find a hotel in Columbia that was large enough to hold all of the RS&A employees and their families. He also specified that the hotel was to have a banquet room, and all meals were to be catered. It was early enough that most people did not take the watch seriously, and she was able to make the specified arrangements at the first hotel she called.

Erik debated about joining the employees in Columbia, but he couldn't really find a good reason to do so. Most of them did not even know he existed, and he certainly was not interested in socializing with them. Unwilling to admit that he was concerned about Christine, he dismissed these thoughts as foolish, and resumed work on his opera. His television stayed tuned to the weather, however, and he watched the hurricane move slowly but steadily towards Charleston.

On Saturday, they learned that landfall was predicted at high tide on Monday morning. This news sobered the group as they all wondered how well their city and their homes would weather the storm. Not wanting to spend another minute alone in her room, Christine went down to the pool. The area was crowded and noisy as it was one place the children could play. Christine grimaced at this, but decided it was still better than sitting in her room. She briefly considered going to the hotel's bar, but was concerned that she would have a bad reaction to the smoke-filled area. By the time dinner was served in the banquet room, Christine had a splitting headache provoked by the sounds of squealing children. She ate a small amount, then went back to her room. Taking some medication, Christine crawled into bed and prayed for sleep.

Sunday morning brought unexpected good news to the group. A cold front from the upper Midwest had stalled just offshore of the North Carolina coast. This front was large enough and strong enough that it blocked the hurricane's progress towards Charleston. The hurricane was pushed northeast and it harmlessly spun out to sea. The evacuees were overjoyed at this. Unfortunately, the interstate from Columbia to Charleston was virtually a parking lot, so the RS&A employees were told that they could remain at the hotel one more night, then use the Monday workday to return to Charleston.

Christine was torn. She did not really want to spend the entire day Sunday in the car. On the other hand, she was becoming claustrophobic in the hotel. When she learned that some of the other single employees planned to catch a movie, Christine decided to stay in Columbia and go to the show with them. They found a cinema on the west side of the city, so they did not have heavy traffic to deal with. Buying tickets for three different movies at the multiplex, the group had a very enjoyable afternoon and evening.

The return trip to Charleston on Monday morning was uneventful. Most of the evacuees had returned on Sunday, so traffic wasn't too bad and they made good time. Although not required to do so, the interns stopped at the RS&A offices and worked the rest of the day. That evening, Christine could not hardly wait to get online to talk to Rafe. He was planning to come to Charleston for the weekend, and she wanted to know which flight he would be arriving on. He had friends at the College of Charleston, and they were going to meet his flight. Although his friends had said that he could bunk with them, Rafe was secretly hoping that Christine would ask him to stay with her.

On Tuesday, the interns were called in for a special meeting. They were reminded that they were living in RS&A housing, and overnight guests had to be cleared through the firm. If Christine thought the timing of the announcement was odd, she did not say a word.

Thursday morning she was told that she would be needed to work the weekend. Chatting with Rafe that evening, her suspicions grew, but she dismissed them as being ridiculous. Who at RS&A would possibly care that she had out-of-town company coming?

If John Campbell thought Erik's demand unusual, he hid it well. He did not really understand, but he did not get his position by arguing with or questioning the boss. So, he merely called Christine into his office on Thursday morning and, giving in to Erik's wishes, told her that they had reached a critical stage in the project, and they would be working all weekend.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N Many thanks to my betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour. For ... everything ...

* * *

**_

Rafe could not believe his eyes.

He frowned, staring incredulously at the Instant Message Christine had sent him. "Sorry, have to cancel this weekend. There's a project I'm needed on at work."

After considerable hesitation, he answered. "I can come up anyways. I can hang out with my buddies at the CofC. We'll still have Friday and Saturday nights together."

Her response: "No, I don't know how late I will have to work those nights. And, we've been told that RS&A has to approve any house guests we may have. I'm sorry, Rafe, I'm as disappointed as you are. We'll have to make plans for another weekend."

Rafe thought darkly to himself that he doubted Christine was as disappointed as he was, but he changed the subject. A short while later, not having much else to say, they signed off.

Christine worked the entire weekend on the site plan for the library. She could understand its importance; the floor plan could not be completed until the site plan was in place, but she did wonder why she had to give up her weekend to work on it.

* * *

Her suspicion took root at the project planning meeting on Monday. She discovered that not only were _none_ of the site plans were finished, but none of the others were pulled in for weekend duty.

That evening, Rafe sent Christine an Instant Message. "Hey, a bunch of us part-timers from the Resort are going to be at Clemson this weekend. Think you can join us?"

"I'd love to! Too bad there's not anyone else here in Charleston ... I'd need to hitch a ride."

"Let me see what I can do, Christine. I'm not too sure about the hotel rooms, though. We were thinking about getting a couple, and everyone just hangs out where ever."

"That's fine, Rafe. Thank you for asking me ... I really need this."

"I'll let you know once I've arranged for your ride."

* * *

Christine could not believe how excited she was about the upcoming weekend. She was looking forward to returning to Clemson; it had been her home for the past four years. She was hoping to arrive early enough on Friday to talk to her adviser and let him know how well she liked her internship.

Rafe IMed her to let her know that a couple of his friends would pick her up by noon on Friday. Christine went to her supervisor, and asked for the day off. Alex agreed, so she IMed Rafe to let him know.

Just before she left work on Thursday, she received an email from the primary Project Planner, John Campbell. "Special project planning meeting has been scheduled for 2 PM Friday afternoon. Attendance at this meeting is mandatory."

_Well, that shoots the shit out of this weekend! _

It took Christine until after dinner to compose herself enough to go online. "I am so sorry, Rafe, but I'm afraid I can't come to Clemson this weekend after all."

"Give me a little while. I want to see who else can't leave before Friday evening."

Brightening at that, Christine said "OK!" and signed off. Confident that Rafe was going to be able to salvage the weekend, she began to pack.

Checking her emails at work the next morning, Christine discovered that Rafe had indeed found a couple of guys who were going to Clemson, but not leaving until after work. He gave Christine their names and cell phone numbers.

The project planning meeting was dreadful. The powers-that-be were not happy with the plans for the "public" buildings, and although the library was not singled out, Christine could not find a way to leave the meeting. They all groaned when they were told the meeting was going to continue after a short dinner break. RS&A had a couple of deli trays delivered, so Christine took the opportunity to call Rafe's friends and tell them to go ahead and leave without her; she was going to be tied up for the rest of the evening.

Once the meeting finally ended, Christine asked if it was okay for her to drive the company car to Clemson, provided she pay for the gas. After glancing at John, Alex finally said, "No ... RS&A cars are to be used for company business only. Which includes your commute to and from home, but not other recreational use."

Crestfallen, Christine nodded her understanding. _I shouldn't have asked!_ she thought to herself. _I should have just taken the car. So what, they would have been mad. They would have gotten over it ..._

Rafe had sent her another email with the name of yet another person to contact about hitching a ride. They weren't going until Saturday morning. Before she could respond, Christine received a message about the project planning meeting. Groaning, she could not believe her eyes. The meeting was resuming at 10 on Saturday morning. Christine answered Rafe's message to let him know that she simply could not get to Clemson, then turned off her computer and went to bed.

Again, the meeting on Saturday was a huge waste of time. Christine was surprised no one was grumbling about it; everyone seemed to take it in stride. She finally asked one of the architects if it was normal for them to meet late on Friday and all day Saturday. The woman looked at her shrewdly, so Christine hastened to add, "I'm not complaining. I love this job! I was just curious ..."

The woman finally answered her: "This is the first time that I am aware of. But, the Charles Towne Village project is huge, Christine. The entire firm is taking this very seriously."

Appropriately chastened, Christine nodded her understanding.

Monday night, Christine voiced her fears.

"Rafe, I hate this. This is the ideal internship … would be the ideal job, but something … something is just not right."

"I've been _trying_ to tell you that, Christine."

"I mean, at the project planning meeting last Monday, I discovered that _I_ was the only one expected to work the weekend! I was really bummed, thinking that I am really far behind. But I'm not! None of the site plans are finished. I just don't understand.

"Then they called that special project planning meeting for Friday. What a huge waste of time! And, they kept it going and going ... had dinner brought in and everything. Just when I thought I would have the rest of my weekend free, they reconvened the meeting! And Rafe ... maybe it just shows how inexperienced I am but ..."

"What, Christine?"

"Nothing is being accomplished at these meetings. It is very odd, but something just doesn't seem right."

"Christine ... maybe I'm being paranoid, but ... "

"What, Rafe?"

"Have you noticed that you seem to be called in for mandatory overtime whenever we've planned a weekend together?"

Christine stared at the screen ... _He's right! _she thought. "But ... why? It doesn't make any sense. I just don't understand."

"Maybe your boss has the hots for you:chuckles:"

":snorts: He hardly knows I exist."

"I find that very, very hard to believe. I'm sure every man there is aware of you."

Blushing, Christine thought of Erik and his opinion of her. _What is wrong with me? _she wondered. _Is Erik right? Am I just a whore?_

Telling him that she was beginning to get a headache, undoubtedly from thinking too much, Christine signed off.

* * *

Christine was leaving the office late Tuesday evening when her cell phone rang. Puzzled, she glanced at the caller id. She didn't recognize the number, and decided to not answer it. The caller left a message, so as she got into her car, she checked her messages. _Rafe? I wonder why he called …_

She called him back and listened in disbelief as he told her that he suspected someone at RS&A was eavesdropping on their IM sessions and reading her email. He became more and more upset and agitated, so Christine finally decided to humor him, and agreed that they would not IM or email each other, but would keep in touch by phone.

* * *

_No more IMs? Mail?_

From his suite in Mexico, Erik discovered that he had mixed feelings. While he was glad that Christine and Rafe were no longer speaking to each other, he found he missed her presence online. It was his only tangible connection to her. Shaking his head, he growled in disbelief. _She means nothing to you! Nothing. Why are you following her every move?_

Rafe called her every evening that week. It didn't take long for him to mention Thanksgiving weekend

"Christine, my parents are dying to meet you. Savannah is a lot of fun; it'll do you good to get away for awhile."

"I'd love to, Rafe, but I don't have a way to get to your parent's house," she replied.

"One of my neighbors goes to CofC; I'll see if we can't get a ride home with him."

Christine finally agreed. Rafe would fly into Charleston on Wednesday afternoon. His neighbor would pick him up at the airport; they would then pick Christine up at the house on the Battery.

* * *

The weeks flew by. Although she was not asked to work any more overtime, Christine was kept very busy working on the site plan for the library. The library was to be built on the central square in the Village. The exterior had to fit in with the look and feel of 19th century small town America; the interior was to be state of the art. Christine was trying to incorporate an atrium, which would house the coffee shop, into the design. She finally decided to put it on the rear of the building. The facade would not be affected, so she was hopeful that the design would be approved.

* * *

The interns decided to go to The Cougar's Den on Halloween; there was supposed to be a psychic on site who would do readings. It was Christine's first time back since her aborted singing career and she was a little uncomfortable, going back. The bar was darker than normal, and Christine noticed with some amusement that it was decorated throughout for Halloween. The staff was all in costume, as were many of the guests. Meghan noticed the psychic, sitting in a secluded corner booth, and excitedly pulled Christine over to her.

Plopping down, Meghan said, "I'd like two readings … one for me, and one for my friend." Christine started to protest, but seeing the excitement on Meghan's face, she relented.

"Oh, all right," she said, "I'll have my cards read. In return, will you spend Saturday with me shopping on King Street? I need to buy some winter clothes."

Meghan eagerly agreed, not telling Christine that she would have gone shopping with her either way.

"Which one of you wants to go first?" the psychic asked in a throaty voice that was supposed to be mysterious and eerie. Truth be told, it sounded more as if she'd been a long time smoker. Christine all but rolled her eyes at this, but stopped, blushing, as she realized the psychic was watching her very closely.

"Oh, I do," cried Meghan. "Do you mind terribly if I go first, Christine?"

"No, not at all," Christine replied. "That's fine with me."

The psychic shuffled her deck, then asked Meghan to cut it. Much to Christine's amusement, Meghan cut it in three.

"You've done this before, Meghan?"

"Oh yes, at least twice a year. I'm a firm believer in consulting the cards for guidance."

"Your friend is a skeptic, my dear," observed the psychic.

_Wow, isn't she something, picking up on the obvious,_ thought Christine sarcastically. _I can't believe someone as intelligent as Meghan buys this crap._

With a knowing smile, the psychic turned to Meghan. "Are you ready, then?"

"Yes!"

Christine shifted in her seat, trying to get more comfortable. Not liking being the butt of the psychic's humor, she tried to look interested.

The psychic turned over the 11 cards in the classic Celtic Cross reading. She told Meghan that she would meet a fair-haired man who would be everything she was wishing for. Christine could hardly stifle her groan. _How predictable!_ she thought with a sneer. _I can hardly wait to see what she says about me._

Looking thoughtfully at Christine, the psychic shuffled the cards. "Would you like to cut them?" she asked.

"Sure," said Christine. "Why not." Like she had seen Meghan do, she carefully cut the deck in three.

The psychic laid out the 11 cards in Christine's Celtic Cross spread. She looked at the cards, and then looked at Christine. Christine had to fight the urge to squirm under the psychic's intense gaze.

"Ah, I see," said the woman. "There are two men who want you. One is fair-haired. He truly believes he loves you."

Although Christine doubted very much that Rafe loved her, she was intrigued, in spite of herself.

"Although he is a good man, he is not the right one for you," the psychic continued. "I see another man … much darker, whether in physical appearance or in disposition … ah yes. A difficult man. I see stormy encounters … perhaps in the recent past. Yes," she said more firmly, "in the recent past. But also in the future."

Christine broke in, protesting, "There was a man who could fit that description, but … he's done with me. I'll never see him again."

"Is there another man, then, with whom you have had a rocky relationship?" asked the psychic.

"No," admitted Christine. "Just Erik."

The psychic smiled gently. "A difficult man, no? You may think he is out of your life, but he most definitely is not. You may expect more of the same, I am afraid."

Biting her lip, Christine stared at the psychic in consternation.

"But, his involvement in your life is not all bad. No, I see some good coming of it. He thinks of you constantly."

At this the spell was broken, and Christine burst out laughing. "Oh, I am sure he does!"

The psychic was not at all offended. "All I can tell you is what I see in your cards, my dear. Whether you choose to believe – to act – is your decision." Looking thoughtfully at Christine, she added, "Here is my card. Please, call me. I will not charge you for a follow-up reading, should you decide to seek one."

Christine sat there, motionless.

The psychic persisted. "I can see this has upset you, my dear, and I would like to put your mind at rest. Not many people find their soul mate, and those that do discover it is a mixed blessing. This man … this dark, difficult man …"

Christine could take no more. Jumping up, she blindly moved through the bar, not stopping until she burst through the doors to Meeting Street. Shocked, it took Meghan a moment to realize what had happened. With an apologetic glance at the psychic, she took the woman's card, then got up to follow Christine.

Running out of the bar, she saw Christine walking down the street. Meghan called to her, but she did not seem to hear her. Running faster, Meghan finally reached her. "Christine, stop," she panted, grabbing the other woman's arm.

At that, she did stop. Turning to look at Meghan, she was oblivious to the tears running down her cheeks. Meghan felt a flash of triumph, knowing the psychic had truly seen something, but that was quickly tempered by her concern for her friend. "Christine, whats's wrong?" she asked.

Christine simply stared at her, then slowly shook her head. "Must be hormones," she said. "I hate how they make me weepy."

Meghan opened her mouth to argue, then decided against it. "Come on, Christine, let's go home," she said finally.

"That's a good idea. And, Meghan?"

"What?"

"Nobody else needs to know …" Christine trailed off lamely.

Meghan snorted indignantly. "Right! Like I'm gonna broadcast that we went to a psychic to everyone at RS&A? Get real, Christine."

"Sorry," said Christine. Meghan was mollified; Christine at least had the grace to look chagrined. With nothing further said of their little side trip, Christine finally went home.

Although she was dying for a long, hot bubble bath, memories flooded her mind, and she took a quick shower instead. Falling into bed, she dreamed troubled dreams, all of which centered around a "dark, difficult man."

* * *

Saturday dawned bright and beautiful, the perfect Autumn day. Christine groaned as her alarm went off. She was not looking forward to a day spent – _wasted_ – on shopping, especially not after the long, troubled week she had. The days weren't bad, but the nights were dreadful. She had a hard time falling asleep, then once she did, Erik visited her in her dreams.

Not that his "visits" were all bad. Christine blushed as she recalled details of one dream in particular … a night spent in his arms.

_She was not quite sure what Erik was doing in Charleston. It didn't make any sense _– _she was at his home. It was simply but elegantly decorated, and she was quite comfortable there. They had shared a cozy candle lit dinner, and were relaxing with after dinner drinks on his couch._

_Erik turned to her and pulled her across his lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she met his kiss eagerly. His lips crushed hers, then he lessened the pressure slightly. Before Christine could try to deepen the kiss, his tongue crept out and tasted her lips. The tip continued to tease her mouth until she thought she could bear no more. Moaning, she opened her mouth; his tongue surged in. She twisted on his lap, needing to feel him against her. As his tongue explored her mouth, his hand moved to untie her halter top. Once he had loosened the strings, he pulled her top down, exposing her breasts._

_He caressed her, tracing circles around her nipple. It hardened at his touch, and he groaned into her mouth. Wrenching her mouth free, Christine gasped for breath. His mouth trailed kisses down her neck to her breast. Christine felt suspended in time as she waited with bated breath for his mouth to settle on her breast. She ran her hands through his hair, then held his head against her as he suckled._

_His hand continued his exploration of her body, running down her hip and thigh to the hem of her skirt, then slowly traveling back up the inside of her thigh under her skirt. She suddenly realized she was not wearing panties. At his discovery, Erik released her breast and gazed up at her, not bothering to hide his smirk._

Christine blushed in memory, and giving herself a mental shake, hopped into the shower. As the water pounded her, she wondered painfully how long it would take before she no longer dreamed of Erik. _A dark, difficult man_, she mused. _But that's not a stretch, either. Surely men like him are a dime a dozen…

* * *

_

Erik woke with a start. _I _can't _believe that little wench is in my dreams_, he thought with a disgust. _She means no more to me than any of the women before her. _

He glanced at his computer, but now that Christine was rarely online unless it was work-related, he did not have any interest in the logs. The results from another fruitless search for her mocked him.

Her memory haunted him. Her voice, her quiet dignity, her body responding passionately to his kiss and his touch. It got to the point where he could take no more. _I must see her one last time, _he decided. _I will return to Charleston. I do, after all, have legitimate business there. I will spend one more night with her. Then, I will find her replacement, then I will exorcize her memory._

Satisfied that a long weekend in Charleston would cure him of his obsession with Christine, he made arrangements to fly in the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N Thank you to my wonderful betas, Mandy and Musique et Amour. Two truer friends I could not find.

* * *

**_

After a quick breakfast, Christine and Meghan left for their shopping expedition. Stopping in one of the boutiques on King Street, Christine could not believe the activity. Shoppers and sales associates alike buzzed all around the store. Meghan quickly took charge, and steered Christine towards a fitting room.

"Wait here," she instructed. "I'll bring clothes to you to try on."

Glancing at the mob, Christine quickly agreed to Meghan's plan. Relieved, she sat down and waited for her friend.

Although Christine was only 5'5", she was short-waisted and had long legs and thus was hard to fit. She needed petite jackets and "tall" slacks. Finally, at what seemed like the millionth shop, they found a label that designed for a wide variety of figure types. With the help of the attentive sales associates, Meghan pulled together a versatile winter wardrobe for Christine.

They began with a navy wool pencil skirt and matching zip-front jacket. They then added straight-legged wool trousers, a wool riding skirt, and a second short skirt – this one in a slightly fuller a-line cut – all in navy. Christine liked the pieces well enough to purchase the same pieces in camel. Meghan found a camel and navy tweed dress coat and matching trousers, so Christine added those to her purchases. She then chose silk knit turtlenecks in navy, camel, rust, white, and cream.

The sales associate then brought out coordinating pieces in silk. Christine could not resist and so added a camel camisole and a two-piece navy and camel silk dress. Her eyes glazed over as the saleswoman went on and on about how many different outfits Christine could create from just a few pieces. Looking at her friend, Meghan stifled a giggle. The saleswoman finally realized that she had lost Christine's attention, and rang up the purchases.

After arranging to have her new winter wardrobe delivered to the house on the Battery, Christine and Meghan stopped for lunch at The Cougar's Den.

Meghan was flying high; shopping energized her as it did most women her age. Especially when shopping for somebody else. Christine couldn't help but sigh as she sank into the booth. "How much more do we need to do?" she asked.

"What are you taking to Savannah?"

Christine stared at Meghan, a look of horrified despair crossing her face. "I don't have a thing to take to Savannah" she finally admitted.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Meghan. "We can shop for the fun stuff this afternoon, then."

"Fun stuff?" Christine asked, dubiously.

"Yeah, fun stuff. I like the clothes you picked out this morning, Christine … they'll work for work. But … they're kinda boring, you know?"

Christine continued to stare at Meghan in dull horror.

"But now that you're all set with clothes for work, we can look for casual clothes."

"I still need something dressy for RS&A's holiday dinner party … and for the New Year's Eve Masquerade."

"Well, we can look for those dresses too, then. Unless you want to save some shopping for another day?"

Christine nearly screamed "No!" but caught herself just in time. "No, Meghan," she said in a calmer voice, "let's get as much done today as we can."

"Well, the shops on King Street close at 5 today. But, there is always the mall." She added hopefully.

"I am certain I can find everything I need on King Street," Christine said, with firm resolve in her voice.

"Oh, alright then. King Street it is. But, don't forget … we can hit a mall or two …" Meghan's voice trailed off at the look on Christine's face.

* * *

Lunch over, the women continued their foray into the boutiques. Christine was able to find several pairs of jeans that fit her perfectly. She also found a sweatshirt and a couple of oversized pullover sweaters. She added a couple of button-down shirts, one in white and one in light blue, and several white t-shirts. Again, she arranged to have her purchases delivered to the house.

The next boutique carried trendier items. Meghan tried to persuade Christine to try something different. "I don't want to sound mean, Christine, but your clothes are so boring!"

"That's me, Meghan. I don't have a spontaneous bone in my body." Sudden images of Mexico flooded her brain, and she blushed hotly at the memory. Intrigued, Meghan started to excitedly question Christine.

"Christine!" she exclaimed eagerly. "Why are you blushing? What have you done?"

Shaking her head, Christine signaled the subject was closed. She did, however, purchase a couple of tops that would work for parties and bar-hopping.

They then went looking for coats. Christine found a camel trench coat with a zip-out lining and a hood and a navy peacoat. She found a cashmere plaid scarf and silk-lined black leather gloves and completed her purchases.

The next boutique carried very elegant clothes. Christine decided she wanted a "little black dress" for the dinner party, and tried on countless dresses before finding the perfect one. Made of black silk, it featured a halter top which buttoned at the nape of the neck; the back was bare. The skirt was gathered just below the halter top and fell in graceful folds to her knees. It was classy yet the sexiest dress Christine had ever worn. It revealed little, yet the hint of a promise of more was there.

Meghan looked at Christine with open envy. "Every man who sees you in that dress is going to be after you," she said.

Once the sales associate showed her the matching coat, Christine knew it was the perfect dress. Strappy sandals and a small pocketbook complimented and completed the look.

Christine had no idea what she wanted for the Masquerade Party, so she joined Meghan in going through rack after rack of floor-length dresses. Seeing how discouraged she was becoming, Meghan and the sales associate convinced Christine to sit back and allow them to peruse the dresses.

Christine frowned at the dress the sales associate brought to her. It was a pale ivory column of silk, a sheer layer over a matching, delicate slip dress. _They certainly do find me boring,_ mused Christine.

"Try this dress on," the sales associate urged. "I think you will be pleasantly surprised by it."

Meghan had not found a better option, so Christine reluctantly agreed.

Walking back onto the sales floor, Christine was met with gasps. The simple ivory dress was anything but simple. It teased the eye; the silk slip dress seemed to disappear, leaving only the sheer overlayer. The dress revealed everything but … nothing. Christine looked in the mirror and could not stop the heat from flaming her face.

"Ohmigod, y'all!" she finally said. "There is no way that I can wear this dress …"

"You have to!" exclaimed Meghan. "It's perfect!"

The other customers and sales staff concurred. The dress truly did not reveal anything … plus, Christine would be wearing a mask. No one would ever have to know it was her. Christine's last objection was overruled when the sales associate produced a matching shawl. Still not certain she was comfortable with her decision, she purchased the dress then – much to her relief – they left and she went straight home.

Exhausted, Christine plopped down on her bed for a nap before dinner. She did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed when her sleep was undisturbed by dreams.

* * *

The next three weeks passed in a blur, and before Christine knew it, it was the day before Thanksgiving. She had asked for, and received, the day off so after a leisurely breakfast, Christine packed and waited for Rafe and his friend to arrive.

Rafe had assured her that their weekend would be laid-back, so Christine packed jeans, tops, and a lightweight silk poncho to wear on Savannah's River Street. At the last minute, she added the navy and camel silk two-piece dress. The weather was mild enough that her new navy blazer was the only coat she needed.

She answered Rafe's knock. He greeted her with an unwanted kiss and hug, and Christine pushed back the niggling feeling of unease. Breaking free of his embrace, Christine said, "We don't want to keep your friend waiting, Rafe."

Giving her an odd look, Rafe agreed. "Is this all you're taking?" he asked as he picked up her small suitcase.

"All?" laughed Christine. "I feel like I've packed enough for a month!" At his motion, Christine went out onto the porch. Once the door closed behind Rafe, she locked it. Plastering a bright smile on her face, Christine tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach that going to Savannah with Rafe this weekend was a mistake she would regret.

* * *

Erik arrived in Charleston in a foul mood. He hated to fly; he hated the feeling of captivity; and – most of all – he hated the crowds. He was looking forward to seeing Christine _one last time_ and then moving on with his life. He wished to return to the Mayan Riviera and stay there in peace and quiet, away from the torment she had brought him.

His car and driver were waiting at the airport. He was relieved that he had already cleared customs in Houston and was free to leave as soon as he claimed his luggage. The bellhop took his luggage to the car; his driver assisted with loading it into the trunk as Erik settled himself in the back seat. Within the half-hour his bags were at his house and he was in his office in the RS&A building.

Once there Erik realized he had a bit of a problem. Just how was he going to get Christine? Pouring himself a drink, he explored and rejected a variety of options. He could have Maria, his Administrative Assistant, page her, but that would be awkward. The same for going through the Project Manager. He couldn't just call her himself … she had no idea she was working for him. Pacing the floor, he could feel himself growing more and more agitated. He finally picked up the phone and called John Campbell.

"This is Leboeuf," he began. "I want to see the plans for the library branch, and the person responsible for them."

The project manager could hardly contain his shock. "That would be Christine Davies, Mr. Leboeuf. I can send the plans to you, but she is out of town for the weekend."

Erik nearly choked on the sudden rage that rushed through his body. "Send the plans, then," he snarled as he hung up the phone.

_That little wench! Who does _she_ know that she could go out of town with?_ he raged to himself. _It couldn't be that … that … boy! No, she doesn't speak to him any longer._

_She doesn't chat with him online … you have no idea who she speaks with on the telephone … and even if you knew her cell phone provider, they would never agree to tap her line and forward the transcripts to you._

Feeling his anger settle into a cold ball in the pit of his stomach, Erik sat back and deliberated. _She will pay for this,_ he promised himself. _She will pay, and pay dearly._

* * *

A little over two hours after leaving Charleston, Christine and Rafe arrived at his parents' home; a beautiful sprawling ranch-style home on a little over an acre. Christine couldn't help but gape at the property. Rafe's mother was waiting at the front door for her son and his friend, and Mrs. Chamberlain quickly made Christine feel welcome. Christine was relieved to see that she was to share Rafe's sister's bedroom; Alicia was also home for the long holiday weekend.

Alicia was as chatty and friendly as Meghan, and Christine was quickly put at ease. Once Christine was unpacked, Alicia took her on a tour of the home. Each of the four bedrooms had its own bath; the bedroom next to Alicia's was going to be occupied by her grandparents, also visiting for the holiday. Across the hall was Rafe's bedroom suite and the library. Next to the library was the formal dining room. Across from the dining room, and next to the guest room, was the kitchen and hearth room. Across the hall was the living room. The hall ended in a great room which housed a baby grand piano and a home theater. Two doors on the far side of the media room led to the garage and the Chamberlain's master suite.

Christine hoped that she did not look as out of place as she felt; as grand as the home on the Battery was, it was "company housing" and not nearly as intimidating as this privately owned home. Mrs. Chamberlain announced that dinner would be served at 5:30, and it would be casual tonight. Christine was annoyed with herself for not bringing dressier clothes, but Alicia laughed at her mother. "Never mind Mother, Christine," the younger woman said. "Our dinners are always casual! We only dress up if we are going to the Club for dinner." Looking Christine over, Alicia continued, "Besides, I bet you could wear my clothes. You are welcome to borrow from my closet if you need to."

At dinner that evening, Mr. Chamberlain mentioned that he planned for all of them to go to the Club for dinner Saturday evening. Alicia quickly assured Christine that her silk two-piece dress was more than appropriate. After dessert, Christine began to help Mrs. Chamberlain carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen. She was quickly stopped as Mrs. Chamberlain thanked her, but assured her that she did not need to help. Christine was a little appalled at both Alicia and Rafe, neither of whom had lifted a finger to help their mother! Rising, Mr. Chamberlain suggested they find something fun to do, he would help with after dinner clean-up. Alicia wanted to take Christine to River Street, so a few phone calls later, the trio left for downtown Savannah.

The rest of the weekend passed pleasantly enough. Aside from Thanksgiving dinner with Rafe's parents and grandparents, and the dinner at the Club Saturday night, Rafe, Alicia , and Christine partied the weekend away. It was with relief that Christine unlocked the door to the house on the Battery. Rafe and his family had invited Christine to Savannah for Christmas, and she promised him she would consider it.

* * *

Watching Christine kiss Rafe goodbye, Erik felt his anger flare. It took every ounce of restraint he could summon to not rush the steps, push Rafe away, and claim Christine as his own. _What are you thinking? You do _not _want her … _Disgusted, Erik pulled away from the curb and drove back to his home in North Charleston. Had he hesitated another moment or two, he would have seen Christine searching the street … for what, she could not have said.

Shrugging off the feeling that she was being watched, Christine locked the front door behind her. She was relieved to see she was the only intern home at the time; she needed some quiet time before being pounced on by Meghan.


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N A humongous thank you to my betas, Mandy and Musique et Amour, for all of your support during a very trying week. Not to mention, for your help with this chapter. Y'all Rock!_

* * *

**

Just as she feared, Meghan flew into her suite as soon as she got home. "Christine! How was your weekend? How did things go with you and Rafe? How did …"

Laughing, Christine put her hands up. "It was a nice weekend, Meghan. That's it … nothing happened. I just had a nice relaxing weekend with a very nice family."

Disappointed, Meghan bade Christine good night.

* * *

The firm's dinner dance was okay. The food was excellent, of course, but Christine did not have a date and stayed at her table most of the evening. Much to Meghan's amusement, she never once removed her jacket. 

Erik debated about attending the dinner dance, but could see no real reason to. He knew his sudden appearance was going to surprise Christine, and he was quite looking forward to that. The Masquerade provided the perfect foil for him; wearing a mask to the dinner dance would not be so easily dismissed.

In the meantime, he played with her behind the scenes. She never knew when she would be called in to Alex's office, or told that she needed to work overtime, or given a different slant on her assignment. Erik watched with perverse pleasure as she twisted and turned to a tune she could not hear or follow.

Christine did not find out until Christmas Eve that she would have the week between the holidays off. Feeling a little guilty about it, she called Rafe, hoping it wasn't too late to accept his invitation. Anything was better than hanging around the empty house on the Battery. He jumped at the chance and promised he would pick her up in less than three hours. She made a quick trip to the mall to purchase a few gifts for Rafe and his family, then packed her suitcase for her week-long stay in Savannah.

* * *

Erik watched, dumbfounded, as Rafe loaded Christine's suitcase into his car. He could not believe his eyes; he was sure his machinations would have kept her in Charleston. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he did, indeed, have the upper hand and that very, very soon Christine would be doing his bidding.

* * *

Christmas with the Chamberlains was as elegant yet laid-back as the family, and Christine could not remember a more peaceful holiday. Going to bed Christmas night, she relaxed into a daydream, a fantasy of what life could be like if she were Mrs. Rafe Chamberlain. As she drifted into sleep, she could see Rafe's smirk. Confused, she mentally shook her head as the image of the fair-haired man dissolved into the dark, difficult man who haunted her sleep. Unable to fight it, she allowed the fantasy to play in her mind. 

Christmas with Erik would be exciting as they gave each other the gifts of themselves. Suddenly annoyed, Christine roused herself. Pulling on her robe, she padded to the kitchen to brew a cup of tea.

In his bedroom, Rafe heard Christine's movements and silently followed her into the kitchen. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

Christine bit her tongue on the sarcastic remark, and calmly answered, "No, so I thought I'd have a cup of tea." Suddenly uncertain, she added, "It's alright, isn't it?"

Rafe laughed and hugged her. "Of course it's all right," he assured her. "I am glad that you feel comfortable enough here to make yourself at home," he added as he squeezed her affectionately.

Christine was relieved to her the whistle of the tea kettle, and she pulled away.

They sat at the kitchen table and drank their tea. Rafe was enjoying this ordinary interlude with Christine; and she tried her best to be decent company.

The Chamberlains had invited her to the Christmas Ball at their Club, so the day after Christmas found Christine and Alicia at Oglethorpe Mall. "If you can't find a dress here, Christine, we can try Savannah Mall next. Plus, there are some neat boutiques …"

Smiling, Christine assured Alicia that she was certain she could find a dress at Oglethorpe. _Am I the only woman in America who detests shopping? _she wondered silently. At least Meghan and Alicia don't know each other! She cringed as she imagined the nightmare that would be!

It did not take long for Christine to find the perfect dress. The black silk slip dress skimmed her ankles; she impulsively picked up a pair of silver strappy sandals and a silver lame pocketbook. Alicia found a black shawl shot with silver threads, and Christine breathed a sigh of relief as they left the mall.

The three women had afternoon appointments at the spa, so Christine and Alicia met Mrs. Chamberlain there. Christine had to admit the pedicure was heavenly. The stylist talked Christine into trying a new hairstyle, and Christine's updo was "oohed" and "ahhed" over by all of the women who saw her.

* * *

Rafe was waiting in the living room for Christine, and she took his breath away. Blushing, she smiled shyly at him, then turned so that he could assist her with her shawl. "I am suddenly glad that we are driving separately from the folks" he murmured in her ear. 

By the end of the evening, Christine's face ached from smiling. She danced nearly every dance with Rafe, and realized by the end of the evening that he was hoping their friendship would evolve into something more. He did not pressure her, however, and the remainder of the week was spent pleasantly. After much deliberation, she mentioned the Masquerade Party to Rafe, and he jumped at the chance to be her escort. _One more thing to feel guilty about,_ she thought ruefully.

Rafe carried her bags into the house on the Battery. Kissing her good-bye, promising that he would be back at 6:45. She watched Rafe leave, and then began getting ready for the New Year's Eve Masquerade Party. She was still uncertain about her dress, but was relieved that Rafe would be escorting her.

Her mask was the same ivory as her dress, decorated with ivory pearls and accented with clear rhinestones. Her entire outfit was quite understated, but Christine still feared it gave the wrong impression.

* * *

RS&A had rented one of the area antebellum mansions for the masquerade party, and Christine felt transported back in time as the valet opened the car door for her. She and Rafe walked up the staircase in the grand entryway; the lights were dimmed and all of the trees were sparkling with tiny holiday lights. The gala began in the hall, with tables of hot hors'deurves lining the walls. Waiters walked amongst the guests with trays of cold hors'deurves and drinks. The guests mingled, flirting shamelessly with one another, all hidden behind their masks. 

At 8:00, the doors to the dining room opened, and the guests found their tables. Course after course of delicious food was served. The bread basket and water goblets were kept refreshed as the guests enjoyed their dinner salads and shrimp cocktail. The main course, filet mignon Rossini ... a filet mignon with grilled Sonoma foie gras on a scalloped potato crouton, black truffle cabernet sauce and frilled asparagus spears, was followed by a dessert trio of pot de crème served with petite fours. The orchestra played softly in the background as the guests enjoyed their sumptuous banquet, and Christine truly felt as if she had died and gone to heaven.

Once the after dinner coffee was served and the tables were cleared, the orchestra changed to a waltz, signaling the beginning of the dance. From the first notes, Christine was never without a partner. When she danced with someone other than Rafe, she found it amazingly easy to flirt outrageously, safe in her anonymity. That changed, however, midway through the evening.

Although she did not recognize him – odd, seeing she only knew him with a mask – her body knew instantly when she found herself in Erik's arms. She gasped in spite of herself, shocked. _Erik! What are you doing here?_, she almost found herself crying out but Erik's firm grip on her kept her moving and kept her silent.

He was suddenly quite pleased with himself. _Soon she'll know just whose tune she is dancing to, _he thought. _Yes, this should make for a very interesting ... interlude. A few weeks of this, then I can be done with her. After all, the joke will wear thin, eventually._

Looking up at him, Christine saw the smirk which haunted her dreams. After a very long dance, during which Erik held her a proper distance from his body, he steered her to a private drawing room and closed the doors. Before she could protest, he ripped her mask out of her hand and pushed her against the wall. As shocked as she was, she could not help but feel a very familiar tug of want deep within. Anger, disgust, and desire warred within her, and he impassively watched the emotions chase each other across her face. As she started to close her eyes, he hissed, "Look at me, Christine!"

Much to her dismay, her eyes instantly obeyed him. His smirk returned as he saw the desire flare in her eyes and try as she might to tamper it down, she could neither hide the desire in her eyes nor muffle the moan that escaped her lips when he rocked his hips against her. As he pressed his advantage, her arms snaked around his neck, seemingly of their own volition. Lifting up on her toes, she urged his head down to hers as she wound her hands through his hair. He could not deny her, and his mouth claimed hers as his hands pulled her closer to him.

Their mouths tasted, explored, and worshiped each other's, and Christine whimpered when Erik drew back. His mouth continued his exploration though, and she clung to him for dear life. "Erik, please," she begged, tugging his head ... trying to reclaim his mouth. He dropped feathery kisses on her lips, then teased her as his tongue traced first her top, then bottom lip. Christine arched her back, and he pulled her hips closer still. Feeling his arousal against her belly, Christine writhed in his arms. When she thought she could take no more, but die if he should stop, he did.

"Listen to me, and listen well," he rasped. "You are at RS&A at my _pleasure_, and if it should so please me, you will be fired."

Shocked at the sudden change in him, Christine felt tears spring to her eyes. _He thinks you a whore, Christine ... and you prove him right every chance you get._ Anger at him and disgust at herself paired to strengthen her resolve, and Christine met his gaze clear-eyed.

"I don't understand. What does RS&A have to do with ... us?"

Erik took perverse pleasure in enlightening her. "_I_ own RS&A, Christine. You work for _me_. You are living in a house that _I_ own. Your very presence in Charleston is contingent upon what _I_ want." He watched her carefully; her face was an open book. As she realized the total control he had over her, shock was replaced by horror, then disgust.

Composing herself, Christine retorted, "And just what _is _your _pleasure_, Sir? This, by any chance?" she added with a sneer. With that, she rocked against his hips. Caught by surprise, he could not hide his groaned reaction. Once he realized what she had done, he grasped her hips and pushed her against the wall, away from his body. He refused to acknowledge the sudden feeling of loss, but instead answered her question.

"My pleasure is that you sing," he stated. "You are in need of a vocal teacher, and so I will teach you. Your debut will be at the Spoleto Festival here in Charleston in June."

Dismayed, Christine merely stared at him.

"What's wrong, my dear? Did you really think I'd be satisfied with your whoring?" he spat.

"You are the most hateful, despicable man I have ever known," Christine bit out. "I will NOT consent to do anything you want."

At this, Erik released her and turned away. "Very well. You have until tomorrow evening to remove yourself and your belongings from the RS&A house. Your internship officially ends at the closing of this evening. I will let John Campbell know; I am sure he will regret having to tell Clemson that you've failed to complete your internship Y" he said coldly as he strode across the room.

Not wanting to examine his feelings too carefully, he relented and turned back to her as he reached the door. "Think very carefully, my dear, before you reject my proposition," he urged.

Christine could not stop the hated blush from staining her cheeks, and it was with great effort that she did not fly at him, fists flailing. Instead, she thought over what he said, and as the reality of his threat sunk in, she sank against the wall, defeated.

"Very well, I will do as you say. After all, what choice do I have?" She said, disgusted.

"None," he agreed. "Well, since that is settled, shall we rejoin the others, my dear?" Holding her mask, Erik opened the door and bowed with a flourish. Passing through the door, Christine reclaimed her mask and swept out of the room as if she owned the place. Erik could not help but feel a grudging respect for how well she accepted the inevitable.

Although it annoyed him, Erik realized that he could not keep his eyes off of Christine. He could not believe she was constantly in some other man's arms! He had finally seen enough, and reclaimed her. Christine glared at him as he pulled her into his arms, but her treacherous body would not obey her. Had she been able to think, she would have appreciated the effort he took to keep their bodies a respectable distance apart. But all she really was aware of was a molten core deep inside of her, spreading its fire throughout her body, until she was aching with desire for him. Watching her, Erik felt his body respond in kind, and he once again led her to the quiet drawing room. Leading her inside, he carefully locked the door before pulling her back into his arms.

All restraint was gone; they pushed furiously at each other's clothes. Christine's dress and panties were easily disposed of; Erik did not think he would ever be free of the many layers he wore. Finally, they were both lying on the floor, arms and legs entwined as they kissed each other hungrily. Erik settled between her thighs and took her in one quick motion. Christine spiraled out of control as her orgasm shot waves of pleasure throughout her body. Erik swallowed her moans and tried to stay his release, but her body pulsing around him pushed him over the edge.

Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms, panting. Christine felt the heat rise in her cheeks as Erik gazed at her, but for once, nothing hateful nor hurtful passed his lips. He kissed her once more, almost gently, like a lover's kiss. The pang of longing that shot through her took her breath away. In response, Christine hardened her thoughts and pushing him away, she rose to get dressed.

Stung by her rejection, Erik reacted harshly. "Yes, my dear, we must be quick. Twould be a pity if anyone noticed we were missing, or perhaps, watched us come into this room together."

Christine bit back a quick retort and blinked away the sudden tears. Without a second glance at Erik, she picked up her mask, unlocked the door, and returned to the dance floor. Erik did have the presence of mind to jump up and lock the door behind her so that he could get dressed undisturbed. When he was finally dressed, he strode through the ballroom and ordered his car.

Watching him leave, Christine felt suddenly bereft. She did not know why, but she had to fight the urge to run after him, to pull him into his arms and beg his forgiveness. At that thought, her spine stiffened. _That will be the day! _she sneered. Turning to Rafe, she pressed up against him. Rafe looked at her in surprise, then led her back to the dance floor.

Waiting for his car, Erik glanced back at the dance floor. Scowling, he watched as Rafe gathered Christine in his arms. He could not help but smirk as he thought of the last time _he_ had held Christine. _Enjoy your little dances, boy. She belongs to me!_

In spite of being disappointed that the evening did not end with Christine in his arms, Erik knew he should be quite pleased with how the evening turned out. After all, he would have many, many more opportunities to sate his hunger for her in the coming weeks. And by the time of her debut at the Spoleto Festival, he would have tired of her. He returned to his house secure in the knowledge that he would leave Charleston and Christine in June, and miss neither one.

* * *

Rafe said a long good-bye to Christine; he was returning to Tulane the next day. As he kissed her, Christine could not help but think of another man's kisses. _It just isn't fair!_ she thought to herself. _Rafe should be the man I respond to, not ... Erik! Rafe is a kind, decent man ... he would never call me a whore! _Christine finally broke their embrace, uncomfortably aware that her every thought during Rafe's kisses was on Erik. Saying good-night, she walked into her house. 

Christine tossed and turned the entire night. _You are as bad as he is!_ she berated herself. _You know he thinks you're a whore, and you prove him right every chance you get. And now, this! This ... proposition ... of his, which you accepted. Have you no pride? You should have told him to take his vocal lessons and his internship and shove them as far as they'll go._

Jumping out of bed, she began to pack. _I can't do this, _she thought despairingly. _I can't let him dictate to me ... my career as an architect should not rest on my ... pleasing! ... him._ Just as she resolved to renege on her agreement, heat flooded her body as the memory of their pleasure coursed through her. Crumpling, she lay on the floor as she remembered their encounter earlier that evening. _Face it, Christine _she told herself, _he did not force you. You were as eager for him as he was for you. You didn't want him to stop earlier, and you certainly could not get undressed fast enough!_

She was not sure what time it was when she finally crawled back into bed; her troubled dreams of a dark, difficult man kept her tossing and turning the rest of the night.

* * *

New Year's Day passed quietly. Thankfully, the other interns were all suffering from hangovers, so no one looked too closely at Christine. Christine's only resolution was to make it through her vocal lessons and the Spoleto Festival. _Perhaps then I will be free of him _she mused. She could almost ignore the taunting voice: _But you want him still._


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N Warning ... this chapter is a little more explicit than those in the past.**_

_**As always, thanks to my phenomenal betas, Mandy and Musique et Amour. Couldn't do this without them!

* * *

**_

Christine was not happy with the decision she had been forced to make, but she really loved the Charles Towne Village assignment. In addition, her future career as an architect depended on her successful completion of this internship. And so, at the end of the workday, when her fellow interns left for the day, she found herself outside of Erik's office.

The door was closed. Trying to find the courage to lift her hand and knock, she heard a familiar chuckle behind her. Whirling around, she blushed deeply as she realized he had been standing behind her, watching her? But for how long? He motioned to her, and she moved out of the way so that he could open the door. She waited for a biting comment about her unfortunate tendency to blush, but Erik remained silent.

He unlocked and opened the door and, at his gesture, she walked into his office. Occupying most of the top floor of the RS&A building, his office was divided into three distinct areas. Nearest the door was his desk. The middle of the room held a small conference table and comfortable chairs. The far end of the office held his baby grand piano.

She stood in the middle of his office, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot as Erik closed the door behind them. Walking over to his desk, he took care of some papers. Suspecting that he forgot she was there, she finally walked over to the windows, and stared sightlessly into the gray dusk of evening.

Watching her, he frowned to himself. He could feel the tension rolling off her body in waves; even from across the room. She would not be able to sing like that. Without thinking about the consequences, he closed the distance between them with a few silent steps. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against his chest, and leaned down to murmur into her ear.

"Relax," he stated so softly she wasn't sure he had even spoke. Nonetheless, some of the tension did leave as he continued to speak softly to her. She wasn't sure when his hands started caressing her, moving over the slight swell of her belly, then up to stop, splaying over her abdomen just below her bra. Her legs softened, and she did wonder how she was able to remain standing. As Erik continued his soft murmurings and feathery caresses, the tension seeped out of her until she was lying back in his arms, resting on his chest.

At some point, she became aware of his arousal, pressed against her lower back.

Her sudden awareness of his need drove her own, and she roused herself long enough to turn in his arms. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifting her mouth, she pulled his head down to hers. He stopped for a second, then claimed her lips with his, surging his tongue into her mouth, until she went limp against him. His arms ran up and down her back before settling on her hips.

She responded to the pressure of his hands by rocking her hips against his; and answered his groan with moans of her own. They stayed pressed together as he hungrily kissed her with her wiggling against him, wanting more. He rocked his hips against hers, and her hands clawed at his back.

Finally breaking the kiss off, he guided her over to a guest chair. He unzipped his pants, freeing himself, and sat down. Her panties were tossed aside and he raised her skirt as she straddled her lap. "Slowly," he instructed softly as she impaled herself on him, drawing him in deeper than she ever thought possible.

Her orgasm cascaded through her body, and she rested her head against his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed her forehead; at his touch, she raised her head, seeking his lips on hers. With his hands on her hips, he guided her movement, slowly first, then gathering speed as they both moved towards their climaxes. Finally spent, they stayed wrapped in each other's arms, gasping.

He leaned down and tenderly kissed her brow. She came back to reality with a start, then drew back, horrified as she realized what they had just done. Pulling out of his arms, she nearly fell in her haste to get away from him. Without stopping to retrieve her panties, she ran blindly to the door, thinking only of her need to get out of there – to get as far away from him as she could.

Grabbing the handle, she turned it, only to discover that it was locked. She searched frantically for the lock, unaware that it was governed by a remote control then began pounding impotently on the door, furious with herself and Erik; with the entire situation.

He sat watching her for a few moments, then fastening his trousers, rose and crossed the room to her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he spoke sharply:

"Christine! Stop that this instant. You are behaving like a child."

Fury and embarrassment had been warring with each other, but at his words, fury won. Spinning around, she started pounding on his chest. He grabbed her hands, and forced them above her head, then pressed her into the door.

"I will warn you but once, my dear. Do not _ever_ raise your hand to me again. You will not like the consequences," he warned her in a very soft voice.

"Really?" she snarled. "It will be worse than what you have already subjected me to?"

Stung, he did not betray the hurt her words inflicted, but instead raised his brow. "Ah yes, I had forgotten," he replied. "You so love to believe yourself a victim."

"And you love to believe that I'm a whore! Really, is victim worse than whore?"

"Victim allows you to pretend that you have no part in our lovemaking," he said, not disguising his smugness.

"Lovemaking!" she cried incredulously. "_Lovemaking?_"

"Yes, lovemaking," he ground out. "When you are in my arms, begging me to take you, when you reach your release not once, but multiple times, when you curl up in my arms, sated, afterwards. Yes, lovemaking."

"I thought perhaps you were referring to your use of your physical strength over me – like you are now..." her voice trailed off as he suddenly released her hands. They stood there, looking at each other, neither one able to breathe.

_God, if you exist, let her ..._ Erik, not a praying man, broke off, suddenly unsure of what he should request.

_Oh God, what am I to do?_ she despaired. _I am made whole within his arms ..._

He looked away first and turned from her, not willing to acknowledge his pain as she stood there, still and silent. As he turned from her, tears sprang to Christine's eyes. Neither one spoke for a few long moments, then he broke the silence. "You came here for singing lessons. Shall we begin?"

She gaped at him, open-mouthed, for several long seconds.

"Careful, my dear. I may get the wrong impression from your silence," Erik sneered.

Closing her eyes, she swallowed her frustration and her outrage. Clenching her fists, she opened her eyes and looked at him. The sneer on his face strengthened her resolve, and she agreed that they needed to begin. He turned from her, but not before noticing the hurt on her face. Suddenly tired, he regretted mentioning the lesson.

She asked if she could have a cup of tea and he motioned to a door on the far side of his office. Opening it, she found a kitchenette, complete with a cook-top and teapot. Erik sat down at the piano and began to play. Waiting while her tea was brewing, she allowed the music to float over her. She did not want to interrupt him, so she brewed a cup of tea for him also, without bothering to ask if he wished for one. Eventually, both cups of tea were ready and she returned to the office proper.

Placing their cups down on a side table, she became aware of the music coursing through her body – every note Erik played caressed her like an unseen lover, as if he could be to her in music what he could not seem to be in reality. Finally, she could resist no longer and walking over to the piano bench to stand behind him. Beyond rational thought, she leaned down and wrapped her arms around him, then placed a heated kiss on his neck. Erik moved his head to give her better access, and she nibbled along his jaw, back to his ear, then placed feathery kisses where she had just bitten. He turned his head, and she claimed his lips, kissing him deeply.

He shifted on the bench and pulled her astride him. They kissed each other longingly, hands frantically searching the other out. Her short skirt had risen as she straddled his lap, and he shifted her slightly so that he could free his erection. Once that was accomplished, she intimately enclosed him yet again. Her eyes closing as she took him deep within, she missed the flash of triumph on Erik's face.

"Mine," he growled into her ear. "You are mine." She shivered with delight, not once thinking about what his declaration might mean. She cried his name with her release, then collapsed against his chest.

He allowed her a few moments to catch her breath - after all, the longer he delayed his own release, the more thoroughly he could mark his claim on her through her own pleasure. Lifting her off his lap – pleased to hear brought cries of protest from her lips – he carried her to the waiting couch. He stood her next to the couch, and then reached for her clothes undressing her slowly kissed and caressed each piece of skin that he revealed. Wrapping his arms around her to support her, he buried his fingers into her heat and caressing her most sensitive spots, bringing her to release again. Feeling weak-kneed, she had to force herself upright.

Taking a deep breath and licking her lips, she turned to him . "Turn about is fair play, I believe," she murmured wickedly. Moving closer, she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his chest and shoulders, then brushed it down his arms until it fell to the floor. He helped her remove his undershirt, but she stopped his hands when they reached for his belt.

She began kissing his neck, then her mouth explored his chest pleased to hear him gasp as she nipped, then sucked first one nipple then the other. Continuing downward, she undid his belt and sent his trousers and boxers to the floor.

Kneeling in front of him, she trailed kisses along his hipbone. She swallowed hard and looked up. "I've never... " she began, then cut herself off, blushing deeply. Above her, he slipped one hand into the dark of her hair, caressing the hair over her ear.

"Just do what feels right, my dear," he murmured quietly, anticipation tightening his lower stomach.

Nodding, she slipped one hand around him, then stroked him gently and was rewarded by his deep groan. Licking her lips, she settled between his thighs and took him into her mouth. He rocked his hips, then tamped down his control so he wouldn't frighten her off.

Erik's groan of pure pleasure had her own excitement growing and she continued, loving him with her mouth in a slow, gentle rhythm before he could take no more and guided her with a light grip in her hair to a swifter pace. Following his lead, she gripped his knees and took him into her mouth again and again, until he could hold back no longer.

"S...stop," he uttered hoarsely, and pulled her up before lowering her onto the couch. Fighting to maintain control, his fingers found her soft, moist heat and he nuzzled her neck as she spiraled out of control. Shuddering, he pulled away from her, only to settle between her thighs. She held her breath, waiting for him to fill her, yet he made no move to do so. Her eyes remained riveted on his as she waited, suspended in time until she could stand no more.

"Erik," she cried out softly. "Please, Erik …"

"Ah, so the victim begs!" he exclaimed triumphantly as he entered her. He braced himself against her orgasm – he was not ready to end this lesson. As he watched, she slowly returned to her senses. Pressing her deeper into the cushions, he murmured "You are mine..." against her lips before taking them in a crushing kiss.

In spite of herself, she responded heatedly to his treatment of her. Clinging to his neck, she rolled her hips under him. She felt his groaned response spread throughout her body, until every nerve ending was tingling with awareness for him. And yet he remained still, seemingly unmoved by her writhing beneath him.

"Erik, please!" she begged for an end to the sweet torment he was inflicting on her.

"Tell me, Christine, does _he _do this to you?" he asked as he lifted his hips, then buried himself deep inside of her. She was spared having to answer by yet another orgasm.

Smirking at her, he waited for her breathing to return to normal. He then began his gentle assault on her once again, slowly building the fire. "Tell, my dear, does he do this to you?" he asked again.

She tried to process his question, but it made no sense to her. She could not understand why he was doing this to her … didn't he know she needed his kiss, lived for his touch? … what other man was he talking about? Instinctively, though, she knew the only answer she could give him was the one he wanted to hear. "No, Erik, _God!_ Only you."

"You are mine!" he ground out as he finally allowed himself his release.

Exhausted, she was vaguely aware that he shifted so that he was cradling her against his chest. The last thing she was aware of before falling to sleep was his gentle kiss in her hair and murmured words her mind was too tired to process.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N Thanks to my phenomenal betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour for all of their assistance.**

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_

Christine woke with a start. Trying not to lean too heavily on Erik, she rose upon her arms and found herself staring into his eyes and immediately felt a blush flood her face. She averted her eyes, not wanting to see his smirk.

He flipped her suddenly beneath him and wide-eyed, her gaze swung back to him. "Look at me," he said as his hands began their languid exploration of her body. "Look at me and know who does this to you."

Mesmerized, she lay quietly in his arms, feeling herself dissolve into him. As his mouth lowered to hers, he repeated his demand and she watched his eyes as he tasted her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as he deepened the kiss.

Weightless bliss turned into blazing need, however, as he lifted his head and plunged his fingers deep into her. She could not raise her arms to embrace him, but clawed instead at the couch as he thrust his fingers again and again. And then stopped.

"Erik!" she screamed in disbelief. "OhmyGod Erik, don't stop ... please _don't_ stop."

"Look at me," he murmured. "I want to see you as you come. I want you to know ... to never forget ... the man who does this to you."

Sobbing, she was willing to promise him _anything_ just as long as he would bring her to completion. Smirking, he thrust his fingers a final time and rocking her hips, she spiraled out of control.

Driven by his own need, he entered her as soon as she stopped rocking against his hand. She was certain she had lost her mind as wave after wave hit her. Finding his release, he rode out the storm with her.

He told himself to get up, to leave her be, but he could not find the strength to leave her; she was sobbing, shuddering still, and he wrapped her in his arms, gentling her. Kissing her softly, he eased her way back to reality and steeled himself for her rejection.

Although Christine hated the need he stoked in her, she could not deny his tenderness. Sighing softly, she relaxed in his arms, then pressed a kiss to his head. He gazed at her with wonder, unable to find any of the revulsion she usually showed after they made love. _Perhaps she is realizing how futile it is to resist,_ he mused to himself. It was with regret that she told him she had to leave; had to go home and shower and get ready for the new day at work.

* * *

Later that day, Christine invited Meghan to lunch with her. Eschewing the popular lunch spots, they went to a quiet crab shack on one of the tidal creeks that they had been eager to try.

Seated in a quiet corner, she confided in the other woman. Short of mentioning their intimacy, Christine told Meghan nearly everything else about her relationship with Erik, including the singing lessons.

She recruited her fellow intern with a lie – she claimed she was intimidated by him, afraid to be alone with him. Meghan was sworn to secrecy, of course, and Christine knew she could be trusted. After all, Meghan's future was also in Erik's hands.

So, that afternoon after work, Christine was accompanied by Meghan when she reported to Erik's office. He raised a brow quizzically at Christine when he saw Meghan, but Christine merely said that the other young woman was also interested in music. After a long moment, he nodded once. "Let us begin, then."

When the lesson ended, the women said good night and left his office together. Meghan decided to join the other interns at their favorite bar, but Christine was tired and wanted only to return to the intern's house on the Battery.

Erik watched from his window as the two women went their separate ways. He debated about following Christine home, if only to confront her about bringing Meghan along, but decided against it. It would be too risky; any one of the interns or housekeeping staff could see him, and he didn't want to risk harming Christine's reputation.

* * *

Evening after evening, Christine and Meghan went to Erik's office for Christine's singing lessons. Even Meghan could tell that Christine's voice was improving. Christine and Erik seemed lost in the music, not even aware that Meghan was there. Little did she know ... neither one could completely forget her presence.

The deadline for the site plans was quickly approaching, and tensions were running high. Even the highest-ranking architects were nervous; the stakes were high, and RS&A needed to obtain the necessary approvals so that building could being on Charles Towne Village.

Other than surreptitiously keeping an eye on Christine, Erik did not concern himself with the day-to-day activities of the firm. Although he did not want to examine his motivation too closely, he was pleased with the progress of the opera he had begun while at the resort. Although he knew full well that this opera would join the others he had written: musical masterpieces that the world would never hear.

* * *

Christine did not have voice lessons over the weekend, and by Friday night, she was relieved to be able to go directly home from work and collapse. Meghan and the other interns invited her to go out with them, but Christine wanted nothing more than a hot bubble bath, her comfortable bed, and blessed silence.

An ice storm was predicted for late Saturday night, and Christine joined other Charlestonians at the hardware store early that morning to purchase emergency candles, matches, flashlights, batteries, and a couple of cases of bottled water. The RS&A maintenance staff came by the house on the Battery to inspect the fireplaces; if Charleston lost power, as it was apt to do, the interns could use the fireplaces for heat.

Meghan joined Christine for lunch at The Cougar's Den before going to the library to find a couple of books to read if they lost power. The library was abuzz with patrons speculating about the weather, and Christine found herself eager to get home. She listened with half an ear to Meghan's complaints about being cooped up in the house.

"Really, Meghan, you sound like we are going to be stuck in a hut somewhere!" she finally exclaimed.

"Well, it is going to be awful. We are going to be prisoners in that house."

"Some prison! We will be safe, relatively warm, and in our own beds! We have enough food and water, and besides ... the temperatures are supposed to rise well above freezing tomorrow night. By Monday morning, you won't even know we've had a storm."

"Well, isn't that just wonderful. To hell with the weekend, at least we can go back to work on Monday morning."

Christine burst out laughing at this. "I love the weekends as much as you do, Meghan. I'm trying to look on the bright side. At least we won't be trapped in the house for long."

Leaving the library, Christine bumped into a woman on her way in. She began to apologize, then realized with a start that she recognized her.

Meghan spoke first. "Wow ... aren't you the psychic who read our cards on Halloween? At The Cougar's Den?"

Embarrassed, Christine corrected Meghan. "She couldn't possibly remember us, Meghan! That was months ago, and I'm sure we weren't the only people whose cards she read that night."

"Oh, but I do remember you!" exclaimed the psychic. "Christine, correct? You were supposed to contact me for a follow-up reading."

Blushing, Christine muttered something about being terribly busy.

"But of course you're busy," sympathized the psychic. "If you're free this afternoon, perhaps we can take care of that reading today."

Christine bit her lip in consternation. "Why is it so important to you that I have another reading? You offered it, free of charge, so it's not like you're losing money because I didn't follow through."

"This is not about the money. You were very upset by my reading, and I saw ... well, I was intrigued by what I saw and I'd like to do a second reading. You would be doing me a favor, actually."

Christine raised a brow quizzically. "Surely you don't think I'm going to give a testimonial on your behalf!" she exclaimed.

The psychic's laughter rang out. "Oh no, my dear, never that. I am very discreet ... no one will ever know that you consulted me."

Christine stiffened. "I have not consulted you. I have ... played along, as a favor to a friend."

"Very well. As a favor, then, please ... I would like to meet with you this afternoon. At The Cougar's Den again. We can have tea, and then we will visit."

"Oh, come on, Christine! You have to be at least slightly curious. I'm dying to find out what she sees in store for you."

Looking from one woman to the other, Christine finally nodded her head. "All right," she said. "I'll meet you at The Cougar's Den at ..." she glanced at her watch. "... 4:00, then."

The psychic agreed, and they parted ways.

"Well, Meghan, might as well finish this day off. Want to go shopping?"

"You know, this weekend is turning out better than I could have hoped for!" Ignoring her friend's snort of disbelief, Meghan chattered happily.

Being early January, many of the shops on King Street were featuring resort wear. Christine and Meghan browsed through the racks, each deep in thought. Meghan was the first to break the silence.

"Isn't it wonderful that the interns are given a long summer vacation? What are your plans for the summer, Christine?"

"I'll probably return to the Mayan Riviera. They always need summer help. The pay isn't bad, the work isn't too demanding, and the setting is gorgeous. What are you going to be doing?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet. My mother would like me to move back home, but I really don't want to. I've had much too much fun being out on my own to go back to my mom's house and her rules."

_Out on her own?_ thought Christine. _She has every need provided for her; a good job, a guaranteed paycheck, a nice place to live, free of charge. She has no idea what it means to be out on her own ... _Christine flushed guiltily at her thoughts. _Be kind! It's not her fault that she has a mother and a home to go to. _She was relieved that Meghan was too busy browsing the winter clearance racks to notice her sudden silence.

Soon it was time to meet the psychic. Christine didn't know which was worse; spending the afternoon shopping, or the impending appointment.

* * *

Neither woman was surprised to see the psychic was already at the corner booth when they went to meet her.

The server followed them, and after the women were settled, they placed their order for tea and cake.

The psychic reached her hands out to Christine. Christine looked at her dubiously before extending her hands out, also. "I don't tell my clients my real name," she said softly. "But you ... you're different, somehow. So, please, call me Jacqueline."

Christine nodded mutely, a little surprised that the psychic offered this information. _I figured she'd want me to call her something really unoriginal, like ... Madame Rose_, she thought sarcastically.

"I can do any number of readings. We can consult the Tarot or ... I can simply tell you what I see." At Christine's look of obvious disbelief, she continued in the same quiet voice. "I am not bragging. My predictions are 95 accurate, 100 honest."

"Why only 95 accurate?"

"That is due to free will. I can tell you what I see happening, based on current energies and intent. However, human nature being what it is ... if your intention changes, the future will change, also."

"Really!" exclaimed Christine. "I don't see how _my_ intention affects anything! Other than, if I _intend_ to keep my job, I'd better show up at work and complete my assignments." _... and continue my voice lessons,_ came the unbidden thought. Christine felt the hated blush warming her face.

Jacqueline merely smiled. "Ah, here is our tea and cakes," releasing Christine's hands, she waited for the server to leave before continuing.

"Christine, I see a wondrous future for you. Now, before you allow your skepticism full reign, I must tell you. No, I do not see a wondrous future for every one of my clients. Some of them, well, some of them have simply dreadful futures. They have made, and continue to make, poor decisions and unwise choices, and their future reflects that.

"You, on the other hand, consistently make good choices. Yes," her smile deepened, "yes, I see a wondrous future for you."

"Can you be any more specific than that?" asked Christine dryly. "After all, it is easy to claim 95 accuracy when your predictions are purposely vague."

Jacqueline did not acknowledge the thinly-veiled insult. Instead, she asked, "Are you certain you want details? I can tell you many, many specific things about you future. The question is not what I see. The question is, what do you want to know?"

Christine shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Raising her cup, she sipped her tea. The silence stretched as Christine considered the question.


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N Many, many, many thanks to two of the best betas in the world of fan fiction … Mandy the O and Musique et Amour. Your suggestions, assistance, and support have been priceless.**

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_

The silence was suddenly broken by Meghan's cell phone. Muttering under her breath, she checked the caller ID, then answered .

"Dammit all, anyhow! I can't believe I forgot our plans! I'm at The Cougar's Den with Christine. What? No, that's OK. No, I'm sure she won't mind. I had plans with y'all first. I have my car here, though. Oh, good idea."

Closing her phone with a solid snap, she turned to the other women. "I'm sorry, y'all ... I have to go. I'll see you back at the house, Christine. It was nice seeing you again, Jacqueline."

Christine silently watched Meghan leave, then turned back to Jacqueline.

Laughing, Jacqueline teased her. "No, that wasn't my doing! Really, Christine ... but, that is indicative of one of the problems in your relationship with Erik. You give people power they do not have, but ignore the power they do." She took a sip of her tea, then added: "He is right, you know. You do like to pretend that you are a helpless victim."

Christine's temper flared. "I am not pretending anything! He holds all the cards. He has the power in this ... relationship. I do not have a choice!"

"So, you are his prisoner then?"

"Well ... no ... but ..."

"But nothing," Jacqueline responded softly. "You have a choice. If you want him out of your life, forever, you merely have to resign your internship." Raising her hand at Christine, stopping her before she could say anything, she continued. "Let me finish, please. You have money in the bank and your college degree. Many jobs only require a bachelor's degree, regardless of the program it was earned in. You could leave Charleston today and never see Erik again."

Christine closed her eyes against the sudden pain. "I can't imagine ... I don't want to imagine ..."

"Life without Erik." Jacqueline smiled gently at the younger woman.

Tears filled her eyes. "But I don't know what to do," she finally admitted. "I don't understand our ... relationship ... at all."

"There is another path you can take if you truly want to be free of him, but not resign your internship." Seeing she had piqued Christine's interest she continued. "You can file a sexual harassment claim against Erik."

"But, he hasn't!" 

"You could make a strong case that he is. Has he courted you? Has he led you to believe he has a romantic interest in you? No. He has made demands, and he has initiated sexual intercourse on numerous occasions. He has threatened you with your livelihood, with your home, if you do not acquiesce to him. I know of a couple of very good attorneys who would be eager to represent you in legal action against Erik Leboeuf."

Jacqueline sat silently as Christine considered this. After a few moments, Christine sighed. "Is this the path you see me take? Is this what you are suggesting I do?"

Jacqueline shook her head. "It is merely one of the paths that you could take, if you so wish. I am trying to help you see that you have choices, Christine. You are not a helpless victim trapped in a bad situation."

"I almost wish I was. That would certainly be easier ..."

"Christine! You are too intelligent for that! Would you like to accompany me to the women's shelter here in town? Would you like to ask any one of those women if she would care to trade places with you?"

Shamefaced, Christine shook her head.

"I think it is important that you understand your role in your relationship with Erik. Now, I want to clarify your position. First of all, you do not want Erik out of your life. Second, you do not want to leave the internship. Third, you do not wish to file a claim of sexual harassment against Erik." She tilted her head, considering. "I do not want to put words in your mouth, Christine. Are any of my conclusions wrong?"

"No, you're right. I guess ... I guess I just don't know what I want," she admitted.

"That is fine! Let me tell you what else I see, then."

At Christine's nod, Jacqueline continued. "First off, you are going to enjoy a great success later this spring." Wrinkling her brow, she said, "But ... it has nothing to do with architecture. Erik is there, as is your other young man ..."

"Rafe," Christine supplied.

"Yes, Rafe. The young man you have been friendly with ... much to Erik's chagrin, I may add."

Christine snorted at this, but allowed Jacqueline to continue.

"It has something to do with ... a hobby, perhaps? No, no ... it's not a hobby." Light glimmered in her eyes as she suddenly realized. "Singing! You are going to enjoy great success in your singing career!" 

"Singing career? I am not interested in a singing career! I am only taking these voice lessons from Erik because I don't have a ..." her voice trailed off as she remembered the older woman's words. "Okay, so I do have a choice. But, agreeing to the voice lessons ... singing at the Spoleto Festival ... doesn't change the fact that I want to be an architect, not a singer."

Jacqueline looked carefully at Christine, then nodded. "Very well, then. But, as long as Erik is in your life, you will be singing. Yes. Music is very, very important to him. He's writing an opera, you know." A wide grin spread across Jacqueline's face. "Dedicated to you! Ah yes. He is angry about that ... he does not like the effect you have on him, any more than you like the effect he has on you. Well, you both like the results, though."

Christine blushed.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease you about that. I know how sensitive you are about your sexual relationship with Erik. It's more than sex, though." Jacqueline stopped, considering how much she wanted to explain to Christine about soul mate relationships. With a silent nod, she decided that conversation could wait until another day.

"What else do you see?"

Her face clouded suddenly. _Erik and Christine ... some place together ... nicely appointed rooms ... but, it's against her will ... She's not in physical danger from him, but she had no choice in this matter ... she is, for all intents and purposes, his prisoner ... I don't want to frighten her, but she must see ... she must come to terms with her feelings for him ... _

With a mental shake, Jacqueline's expression cleared. "You have choices," she repeated. "You can choose ... Rafe, was it? ... and you will be content. He loves you and will give you a good life."

Christine nodded her agreement.

"You can choose Erik..."

Christine started to protest, but Jacqueline continued.

"Yes, you can! Choosing Erik will make some things easier, some things more difficult. What an exciting life you will have with him! You will continue to sing, of course, and may ... you may even ... I'm seeing Erik enjoying great success. But, only with you."

Christine continued to look doubtful. _Choose Erik? She makes it almost sound ... easy! But, it's not up to me ... _

"There will be other men who will be interested in you, of course. You are young and you do not have to choose either Rafe or Erik."

_Well, isn't that a convenient cop-out! _Christine thought dryly.

"Do not choose Erik because you want to make your life easier! You will not have an easy life with him. Do not choose Erik for his music; his music will survive and will eventually be discovered. He will someday be known as a musical genius. Do not choose Erik to save your career in architecture. You have other options open to you, whether you complete this internship or not." Sitting back, she quietly studied Christine for her reaction.

"Well, this is interesting ... but you haven't make anything easier for me," Christine complained. "I still don't know what to do ... I had thought you could tell me how things are going to end up."

"A common misconception, my dear. I cannot tell you how things are going to end up, because you ... and these other men ... all have free will. All I can tell you is what I see, based on current energies and intent. I can tell you, if you choose Rafe or one of the men you have yet to meet, that you will have a good life. You will be content. Is contentment what you're looking for, Christine?"

"I want to be safe!" she exclaimed.

"Erik will not harm you, my dear."

"But ... I am so afraid of him."

"You are afraid because you do not understand. Once you accept him, you will not fear him. The things you fear are inside of you, Christine. Erik brings them out, but they are aspects of yourself. Rafe will never bring them out, which is why you can convince yourself you will be safe with him."

Christine grew more agitated as Jacqueline went on.

"Now that you are aware of the feelings you fear, they will be harder to deny. Not impossible, just difficult. Although, once you accept them, you could choose to disregard them. As you well know, we do not have to act on every feeling we have. Yes, the key is acceptance. Accept yourself. Accept the feelings you have. Accept that you have choices. Then, the choice you need to make will become crystal clear."

"You make this sound so easy ... you make it sound like I'm the one in control here ..."

"Ah, but you are," smiled Jacqueline gently. "You are in control of your life, Christine. Not Erik. Not Rafe. Not even fate. You, and you alone, will determine the quality of your life. So, you must decide. Will you be content with playing it safe? Or, will you answer your soul's need? You can have a good life, Christine. But only you can define what a good life is." Handing Christine another business card, Jacqueline ended their session. "Call me, please, whenever you want. I care about you, Christine. I want you to know I am willing to help you find your way." 

Christine nodded as she took the card. "I don't know. I guess I agree with some of what you've said, but ... I just don't know."

* * *

Returning home, Christine took her packages into the house. Taking what she needed, she left the emergency items on the counter in the kitchen. Once in her suite, she decided to take a bubble bath. 

Sinking into the hot, fragrant water, Christine gave a sigh of delight. Leaning her head back against the bath pillow, she closed her eyes and reflected on what Jacqueline had told her. She tried to picture a future with Rafe, but she really couldn't see it. Then, reluctantly, she tried to picture a future with Erik.

Vivid details sprang to life. She could see the two of them, clearly, walking on the beach together, hand in hand. _Children! _Their children were running ahead of them, skipping in and out of the waves as they went. She could feel Erik's hand, the wind on her face ... she could hear the children's delighted shouts ... a feeling of utter contentment fell over her.

Then she saw herself, now, and was saddened. _I can't do it, _she thought, _I can't ... choose ... Erik. _She heard the first pellets of icy rain hit the roof, and hurriedly ended her bath. Dressing in her warmest sweats, she burrowed under the blankets with her book and tried to convince herself she was shivering from the storm.

* * *

Charleston awoke to a layer of ice and no power. The sun shone brightly, though, and Christine was struck at the beauty of the ice-covered branches. Turning on the transistor radio, she listened for an update on the weather. As predicted, temperatures were already near freezing and rising steadily; the ice would soon be melting. She grabbed a breakfast bar and went back to her suite. 

After building a fire, she curled up with the book she had started the night before. The words swam on the page as her vision replayed itself in her mind. Giving up, she closed her book and allowed herself to daydream.

This time, they were in their home. From the outside, it was a stately colonial. Inside, it was obvious a lively family lived here. One of the doors was closed ... _that must be Erik's study _... and the children were playing happily, if noisy, in the great room. She was cooking ... could almost smell the aroma of the food ... then grimaced. _Great, _she thought darkly, _we have no power, I am starving, and I daydream about food!_

Succumbing to the power of the dream, she saw Erik walk up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. She started to lean back into him when she realized a pot was boiling over. He teased her about not paying attention to what she was doing, but released her so that she could lower the heat. _Do something useful, _she thought. _Like set the table ..._

She laughed out loud at that. _You're crazy, Christine, crazy! He thinks you're nothing but a whore ... he does not want you ... does not want to build a life with you. You'd be much better off daydreaming about Rafe ..._

She tried. She tried so hard to erase Erik and insert Rafe, but it just wouldn't work. Finally giving up, she returned to her book.

And was suddenly startled when the lights came on. She jumped up as she heard the other interns whooping it up, and laughed at the lot of them. "Really, y'all," she said as she joined them in the kitchen, "It's been less than 24 hours without power ... you'd think it had been a month!"

Ransacking the refrigerator, the six of them agreed that a home-cooked meal sounded very good. Christine loved to cook, so she shooed them out of the kitchen.

They did not have much of any one item, so dinner was potluck. Nobody seemed to mind, though, and when Rafe called, Christine happily left the dishes for the rest to fight over.

After going over her exciting news ... about losing power due to the storm, she sat back and listened as Rafe talked. If she seemed distracted, he didn't mention it.

Hanging up, she rebuilt the fire in the fireplace and settled in her chaise next to it. She did not even pretend to read but instead contented herself with staring at the flames, looking for answers to questions she could not even verbalize.


	13. Chapter 13

_**As always, many thanks to my betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour. Y'all are the best!**

* * *

_

Listening to the winter weather advisory, Erik cringed. It was one thing to remain cooped up because it was _his_ choice … quite another to be trapped by inclement weather.

Telling himself that he was merely looking after his investment, he told Maria to have a maintenance crew check the house on the Battery for storm-worthiness. The interns may very well need to use the fireplaces; he did not want the house damaged because of a faulty chimney. Nor did he want the interns killed due to a damaged flue. He did not truly care about any of them, but he abhorred senseless deaths.

His North Charleston housekeeper, Hannah Simon, and her husband, would take care of storm preparations, so Erik did not have to concern himself. His mood degenerated, though, as he contemplated the approaching storm. Pacing about his office, he stopped short with a growl and snapped on the intercom. "I want the public areas site plans … now!" he snarled.

The site plans were delivered within a few minutes of his command, and he spread them across the table. Flipping through until he found the plans for the library branch, he peered at them critically. He could not find anything to fault; for as inexperienced as Christine was, she had a keen eye and had hit the nail on the head for the atmosphere they were after.

From the street, the library looked like any of the Carnegie libraries dotting small cities throughout America. From the rear, though, the solarium commanded the view. Even so, it did not look so ultra-modern as to be jarring. "Fine job, Christine," he said in a low voice to himself. "You have good instincts …we did well to listen to you."

* * *

Once home, Erik showered. Dressed in loose linen trousers and a silk robe, he returned to his study on the first floor and crossed over to his piano. Feelings he didn't know or didn't want to recognize he had flowed through his fingers and were expressed through the notes he played.

At some point, he reached for his pen and staff paper and he hastily scribbled the notes he had just played. Hours passed and finally, spent and exhausted, he crawled into his magnificent king-sized bed and fell into dreamless sleep.

* * *

Saturday, a niggling sense of unease teased at Erik. He started and stopped a variety of activities: he could not seem to settle down to complete any task. He was unusually restless and, wary of his temper, Hannah and Peter remained unobtrusively in the background. Finally unable to stand the confines of his house, Erik drove to the Isle of Palms and walked on the deserted beach.

The gray, overcast skies and fiercely pounding waves echoed his tormented mood and the solitary figure in the black wool trench coat was a menacing figure. Most of the beach houses were boarded up and deserted, which added to Erik's feeling of being alone in the world. Not that that was unusual for him … no, the part that puzzled him was his sudden discontent … like he was … missing? … something. He pushed that thought away and taking care not to walk too close to the waves, concentrated on his footfall on the surf-hardened beach.

Lost in thought, he was surprised to feel the first drops of icy rain strike him. He looked at the sky as if questioning what was happening, before reluctantly turning to return to his car.

Thinking about the twenty miles to his home, he realized how foolish he had been to ignore the approaching storm. He was annoyed with himself for losing touch with his surroundings. Thankfully, not many cars were on the ice-covered road, but, still, driving was treacherous.

After covering only a couple of miles in twenty minutes, Erik reluctantly began looking for a hotel. Grimacing, he pulled into a chain motel which was flashing a _vacancy_ sign. Parking the Bentley, he gingerly got out of the car, and promptly slid on the slick pavement.

After a torturous walk, he entered the motel's office and quickly secured a room. The clerk advised he be careful when walking to his room, a warning which Erik did not deign to acknowledge. Once inside the room, he noticed, with some relief, the obvious smell of commercial disinfectant. _Well, that's something, at least,_ he said to himself. _Not that I have any intention of … sleeping … in this hovel._ He was startled out of his thoughts by the ringing of his cell phone.

Slightly chagrined, he told Hannah of his plan to spend the night in Sullivan's Island; he would come home as soon as the roads were clear of ice. The housekeeper was greatly relieved to hear this, and relayed the news to her husband. "Isn't it sad, Peter? The only people who know or care Mr. Erik is out in this storm are his housekeeper and her husband … hired help."

Neither one understood their troubled employer, but both were struck with sudden sympathy. How truly awful it must be … to have no one care if you live or die.

* * *

Erik could hardly remember a night spent in more miserable conditions. The motel lost power shortly after he arrived, and he sat on a hard chair in the cold, dark room. His only diversion was his cell phone, and he did not have a friend in the world to call. His wool coat had gotten wet, and as the material slowly dried, it smelled terribly. He was torn … either sit and shiver, or sit and be nauseous from the odor of the wet wool. He truly did not wish to become seriously ill – he had enough of hospitals, after the … accident – and so, reluctantly pulled the coat closer around his body, hoping to retain his body heat ...

_He was walking along a sun-covered beach, hand-in-hand with Christine. He could feel her love pouring over him, and it was with a pleasure he never thought he'd know that he could see their children playing in the surf ahead of them._ Jerking suddenly, he realized that he had dozed off, sitting in that wretched motel room. He couldn't comprehend the sudden feeling of loss.

His distress at his forced inactivity was compounded by the terror the black silence instilled in him. He could not help but remember the last time he was held captive; albeit the staff at the burn center was not being unkind. They were not certain if the blindness was permanent, and he was lost in a world of unending pain.

Shaking himself again, he returned to the present. Although not as bad as the burn center, the surroundings were wretched. He didn't think himself an elitist or a snob; he simply knew what he liked and refused to settle for anything less. He did not mind going without food or sleep but he hated being without his music. Fearing a repeat of the earlier dream, he refused to allow himself to drift off again, and so he sat in the cold hotel room with only the beating of the freezing rain on the windows to relieve the dark silence.

He opened the drapes, trying to find some pinpoint of light that he could latch on to. None was to be found, however. There was not a soul out driving, and the freezing rain had not stopped. He wondered with idle curiosity if there was a flashlight in his car, and he struggled to swallow hysterical laughter at the thought of the motel staff handing out candles and matches to their unfortunate guests. For a moment, he feared he had lost his grip on reality; that he had reverted to being the madman _they_ suspected him to be. Finally, feeling he had no real choice, he allowed himself to dream of Christine.

Flashes of her ran through his mind. He remembered the day he discovered her, and he grimaced when he recalled she was cleaning his bathroom. But that voice! The voice of an angel captivated him, and he knew he had to make her his. The feel of her body leaning into his, just before she would relax completely against him … he suddenly realized that his body remembered that all too well, and forced himself to move on to other, less heated memories.

He smiled as he remembered seeing her eyes light up with delight, but his smiled dimmed when he recalled it had been Rafe who had inspired that in her. He saw her at the Masquerade, and he groaned as his body responded. He gave a short laugh of disgust at the thought of satisfying himself in this dreadful little hotel, and was thus relieved when his desire at last fled. His melancholy mood deepened, though. There was nothing he could do but sit in the cold, dark room and wait for the end of the ice storm and daybreak. Hopefully, the meteorologists' forecast was accurate; the temperatures would climb above freezing and the ice would soon only be a memory.

* * *

The freezing rain had stopped during the night, and the sun shone brightly on Sunday morning. Erik realized that the roads were getting better, and so he left the motel without a backwards glance and continued the slow drive to his home in North Charleston. He did not understand why he detoured past the house on the Battery … it made no sense to him and he tried not to think about it.

* * *

Hannah and Peter were relieved to see Erik return home safely. Although she typically did not suggest he eat, she mentioned she was planning to cook a hearty beef stew for dinner – comfort food at its finest. Erik gave her a long look before finally nodding at last. He then excused himself and went up to his suite to take a much-needed shower.

He returned to his office as Hannah was bringing in a cup of tea. _How well she knows me and my habits,_ he mused. _Of course, that is what I pay her for._

Sitting down at his piano, he began to play. Hannah and Peter looked at each other as the melancholy notes drifted out of Erik's office. The aroma from the stew wafted through the house and must have worked some magic, because as the afternoon wore on, the music changed. Hesitantly at first, but gaining strength as he continued to play, an uncommon _optimism_ wove itself through his music. At some point, he realized that this composition belonged in his newest opera, and he was relieved that, as a matter of course, he recorded his music. Even so, he spent hours replaying, making notations, replaying yet again. So intent was he that he jumped when Hannah knocked at his door.

Remembering the beef stew that he had agreed to eat, he swallowed the snarl and strode to the door. Opening it, he was surprised to see her empty-handed.

"Excuse me, Sir, but … beef stew is best eaten in the kitchen. Peter and I will wait until you finish, of course."

Both of them were shocked by Erik's reply. "Nonsense, Hannah. There is no need for you and Peter to postpone your dinner. There is room for three at the table, I believe."

Hannah fluttered about, unaccustomed to Erik's presence in the kitchen. Peter, however, took it in stride and the men ate in companionable silence.

* * *

Dinner over, Erik resumed his music. Grabbing his laptop, he began to type furiously … words became lines, lines became verses, verses became songs. He was so caught up in the music … listening to his latest composition as it played over and over again … that he did not consciously read the words that he was typing. It would be much, much later before he would read, with disbelief, the _hope_ that the song revealed.

* * *

Arriving at work early Monday morning, Erik resumed his examination of the site plans. He initialed his "okay" on the site plan for the library, then began looking at the plans for the rows of storefronts. Erik felt a vague disappointment; the facades were typical Americana, but he did not see the punch that would make them stand out. He went through the other public buildings, as well, and the feeling remained. There was something … not quite right … about the site plans, and he could not put his finger on it. Studying them again, he realized that the buildings were lacking character.

The small-scale models had not been built yet, so gathering the site plans, Erik headed down to one of the conference rooms. He hung the plans around the room, then studied each grouping. He kept returning to the library; it was the only plan which pleased him. Throwing his hands up in disgust, Erik summoned John Campbell.

"The library branch is the only site plan in this group that I am willing to approve," he stated. "I do not wish the other buildings to be clones of the library, but I want them to capture the same feeling. Yes, this is to be a 'traditional' small town; however, each small town has its own personality. These site plans are devoid of any personality or character, and that needs to change. Summon your group, Campbell. I've told you what's wrong, it is up to you to rectify it."

Returning to his office, Erik instructed Maria to have the residential site plans hung in one of the other conference rooms. He spent the rest of the day going over them.

The developer had specified five ranges of housing. The lowest end were the townhouses on the village green. The townhouses were quite similar to the houses on Charleston's Rainbow Row, Erik noted with satisfaction. The condos scattered throughout the community were to be based on the traditional Charleston single house. They featured a front door which opened onto a garden. Each floor had a piazza that ran the length of the building, also facing the garden. Detached garages were at the rear of the property and accessible via alleyways. The cottages were based on the carriage houses found on the properties "South of Broad." The fourth level of housing was the Charleston double house; these Georgian colonials also featured a Charleston piazza on at least. Within these levels, prospective buyers would be given two or three different elevations from which to choose.

The estate lots were reserved for custom homes. Again, they needed to have the look and feel of traditional Charleston; the prototypes were the houses found on Bay and Battery streets on Charleston harbor. The site plans for these homes would be approved on a case by case basis.

The interiors of all of the houses were to have every modern amenity, of course. But, that nod to 21st century America was to be hidden or cleverly disguised. The developers knew that they were building for a very unique group of potential homeowners. Only those with discriminating tastes would be attracted to Charles Towne Village; that they must also have large bank accounts was an unspoken given.


	14. Chapter 14

**_A/N Many thanks to my magnificent betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour. Your assistance and support is priceless.

* * *

_**

John Campbell listened to Erik's directive with dismay. Although he was used to his boss' autocratic ways, he was now in a quandary. There was _no way _he could tell his group of thirty experienced architects that the person whose lead they must follow was a _first year intern!_

John called Alex and the other project managers into a meeting in the conference room. "We need to look at this project with new eyes," he stated. "I would like each of you to look at all of the site plans, then we'll discuss which of them best captures the feeling of Charleston in the late 19th century."

Chairs were silently pushed back as the project managers rose to look at the drawings. "Don't study them," warned John. "Just look at each one long enough to get a feel for it. We'll examine the plans for specifics later." Looking at his watch, he added, "We'll take 20 minutes for this."

Twenty minutes later, the group reassembled around the conference table. John stood at the dry erase board, where he had drawn a table. The left-hand column listed the various public buildings; the second column was labeled "Yes" and the third column labeled "No." The rest of the 8'x4' board was clean.

John went down the list and recorded the votes. The storefronts, barber shop, a beauty salon, a bar, a pool hall, professional offices, community center, and the library. And the consensus was clear: only the library received all "Yes" votes.

"Now for the hard part," he said. "Why is the library the clear winner? What sets it apart from the other buildings? What changes can we make so that the other buildings _look_ like they belong in Charles Towne Village? Before we go back and study the plans, I want us to brainstorm. We may not need to study the site plans; as a group we may have the answers we already need. So, call out your impressions about the library, and I'll list them."

John wordlessly wrote down the answers the group threw at him. Warm, welcoming, inviting, friendly, "open", secure, stately, classic, just what one would expect when visiting a small town, the columns on the facade.

"OK, so … are the other buildings the opposite of these characteristics?"

"Not entirely," answered Alex. "But, the others seem to fall short, don't they?"

"Alex, since your team designed the library," holding up a hand, he cut the other man's reply off, "... I'd like to meet with you privately for a few minutes." Glancing at the others, he added "The rest of you can take a short break. On second thought, Alex, you and I can meet in my office. The rest of you can continue the discussion, or, if you feel it's necessary, study the site plans."

* * *

"Alex, I'm sorry I interrupted you, but I don't think we want to broadcast that the only person on staff who understands the project is a first-year intern. I will never understand why you gave a building of this magnitude to her, but Christine Davies nailed it."

"I know it's highly unusual to give an intern this type of responsibility, and I didn't, at first. Christine took the initiative – she did her homework – when no one else was even remotely interested in the library building. She has good instincts; she will make one helluva architect one day."

"I agree, which is why I don't want it publicly known that she is the one responsible for the library building." Again, he raised his hand to cut off the other man. "Those who need to know, do know. And, eventually, it will be common knowledge. But, you know as well as I do the competitive atmosphere among the staff. If they know that a first-year intern surpassed them all …" he shook his head. "I don't want her career derailed by petty jealousies, Alex."

"Perhaps you would like to repeat this morning's exercise with the rest of the Public Buildings Team, then," Alex suggested. "I feel pretty confident that they will come to the same conclusion the Project Managers did."

"I thought about that while the rest of you were looking over the site plans this morning. But, I'm afraid that will make Christine very vulnerable to attack. It won't be hard for the rest of them to figure out she was the one responsible for the library's site plan. No, I think it will work out the best if the Project Mangers can identify what each building is missing, then have his, or her, team rectify that. No one will need to know that the library is the only building whose site plan not only does not need to be revised, but is actually the gold standard by which the rest of the buildings will be judged."

Both men looked at each other somberly. Alex genuinely liked Christine; both men respected her as a budding architect. Neither one underestimated the precarious position Christine was now in.

"You know," said Alex slowly, "it may not be a bad idea to also "reject" the library's site plan."

"How so?"

"Rejecting it keeps everyone "equal." We don't have to accept the changes Christine makes, but I do think we need to tell her that the library falls short of our expectations. It may hurt her feelings, but she'll get over it. Suffering the animosity of her coworkers would be much harder to handle."

John looked at Alex grimly. "You're probably right. I am glad that you're the one who gets to tell her, though. I don't envy you that."

Returning to the conference room, John announced that the Public Buildings group would be meeting at 2 PM that afternoon. "I suggest everyone eat a hearty lunch. I have a feeling that this is going to be a very long day."

* * *

Erik tuned in to the afternoon meeting, and listened with puzzlement as the group was told that none of the public buildings was satisfactory. John listed the characteristics they were going for, without ever mentioning that the library had successfully captured them all. _What the devil is he doing? I thought I made it clear to him that the library was exactly what we are looking for! _Pacing, he waited until John excused himself from the meeting before telling Maria to get his Project Manager up here, _now!_

John groaned silently as he answered the summons. _Too bad I couldn't have made Alex go in my place_, he thought. At Maria's direction, he entered Erik's office.

Although seated at his desk, Erik was turned with his back to the door. He paused, purposely, intending to increase the other man's discomfort a notch or two. After a few moments, he turned and motioned John to take a seat.

"I thought I made it clear to you that the library site plan was the only one which is acceptable," Erik began. "Would you care to tell me why you have "rejected" the library site plan?"

"I am thinking only of Ms. Davies reputation and her working relationships here at RS&A. Professional jealousy can be a terrible thing … I don't wish to subject her to the ire of the rest of her team. We don't have to accept any of the changes she suggests, of course, since her concept was right on target."

"And you think it wise to cause her to doubt herself?" Erik inquired softly. "You think … professional jealousy … is a bigger obstacle to overcome than one's low opinion of oneself? Than being told that your best work isn't good enough? Than being told, in spite of what you know is true, that you've missed the mark?" He paused, waiting to see if the other man would answer.

John shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but did not speak.

Erik moved a couple of papers on his desk, and John suddenly feared he was going to be fired. Looking up, Erik correctly interpreted the look of horror on his face, and he smiled grimly. "You are an excellent architect, and a trusted colleague," Erik said. "I am not so unreasonable as to fire a man for making a mistake that can be easily corrected. The only question is, how will we correct your error, John?"

John closed his eyes and swallowed. _A public announcement? Call Christine in privately and apologize?_

"An error that is compounded due to the fact that the others do not know that the library building meets the standard. Letting the architects know that the library building has the look and feel we are after should help them in refining their own plans. But, you didn't do that. In your misguided attempt to protect Ms. Davies, you have compromised the entire project." Erik realized with a dawning horror that his opinion of Christine had taken a radical turn. _I can't think about that now!_

John was too deep in his own thoughts to notice that anything was amiss. "I will call each group in, and repeat the exercise I did with the Project Managers this morning. But, first, I will call Alex and Christine in, and let them know that the library's site plan has been approved."

Hazarding a glance at Erik, John noticed the raised brow.

With a deep sigh, he amended, "I will tell them that not only has the library's site plan been approved, it is the only one that captured the look and feel of Charles Towne Landing,"

Satisfied with that, Erik rose and crossed the room to the other man.

John stood as he approached and was stunned when the other man patted his shoulder. "I am pleased that my confidence in you has been justified."

Leaving, John wondered how it could be that words that would be comforting from anyone else chilled him to the soul when uttered by Erik.

* * *

True to his word, John summoned Alex and Christine to his office. "I'm afraid there has been a misunderstanding," he began. "Christine, the library site plan has been approved. It is the only one to have been, and I'm sorry that I did not make that clear at the earlier meeting. I am going to call the rest of the team in, and tell them that, also."

Christine could hardly contain her surprised delight. She _knew_ the library site plan was good, but she couldn't believe her ears. _Why only the library site plan? Who was responsible for approving them?_ and other unasked and unanswered questions flooded her mind.

"Alex, I think we should repeat the exercise from this morning, but for the entire group this time. Christine, you will attend also; perhaps you can help us to identify what Charlestonian elements should be incorporated into the other public buildings.

* * *

The public buildings groups reassembled in the conference room. John asked them to look at the various site plans and identify the buildings they felt captured the feel of 19th century Charleston. Reconvening, he again utilized a table to record their votes about the various buildings. Again, the library was clearly a success. Unfortunately, so were the remaining buildings. Suddenly realizing what was wrong, John abruptly ended the meeting, but asked the project leaders to remain behind.

"It amazes me, now that I realize what is going on, that only one of our interns has been able to capture the feel of Charleston that we are after," he said by way of preamble.

"What is going on?"

"We are located in North Charleston, and most of the architects employed by RS&A live near here. How many of them … how many of you, for that matter … visit downtown Charleston on a regular basis? And how often do any of go sightseeing in Charleston? We take it for granted. We proudly call ourselves Charlestonians, but really, when was the last time any of us were in Charleston? Other than driving through to the beach?"

The project leaders all shook their heads. John was right. They rarely visited Charleston, and when they did, it was to go to a specific destination.

"OK, so this is what we're going to do. We are going to have a refresher course in Charleston architecture by visiting downtown Charleston. We are going to be tourists, in our own town. Then, the groups should be able to look at each building and identify what element is missing. Charleston has a variety of architectural styles, and Charles Towne Village needs to, also. It is not going to be a village consisting only of Greek Revival structures!"

The project leaders slowly nodded their agreement to John's plan. It seemed extreme, but they were all disturbed and disgruntled by the afternoon's meeting.

* * *

The next morning, two luxury buses pulled up to the RS&A building, and thirty architects, project leaders, interns, and the project manager boarded for the ten mile trip to downtown Charleston. Broken up into four groups, they each took a walking and a carriage tour, and visited both the Charleston Historical Museum and the Charleston Visitor Reception and Transportation Center. Once the four activities were completed, they boarded the buses and returned to the RS&A building.

The next morning, the group met in the conference room once again. This time, they understood, and were able to refine each facade so that the buildings appeared to have been lifted from historic Charleston and set down in Charles Towne Village.

By Friday evening, all of the public building site plans were ready for presentation to the developer, and Christine returned to the house on the Battery, more exhausted than she could remember being in a very long time.

* * *

Erik was pleased at John's resourcefulness and in the site plans that were finalized that week. Under Meg's watchful eye, Christine's voice lessons were continuing and she was progressing nicely. He was the last person to leave the RS&A building on Friday, and he wondered why he felt almost … abandoned. 


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N Many, many thanks to my phenomenal betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour. If you're not reading their fics ... well, you should be!**

* * *

_

Saturday morning was gray and overcast, but dry. After a good night's sleep, Christine awoke energetic and decided to go for a walk along the waterfront. Dressing warmly in a silk turtleneck, jeans, and hiking boots, she threw on her peacoat and grabbed earmuffs, a scarf and the silk-lined leather gloves that Rafe's parents had given her for Christmas, and set off.

The homes on the Battery faced Charleston Harbor, where the Ashley and Cooper Rivers met. She began her walk going east towards the Ashley River, then, turning left, she walked along the waterfront at Battery Park. She stopped periodically, and leaning back against the railing, gazing back at the Charleston skyline. The mansions along the Battery were mute testimony to the wealth of the early plantation owners. With a sigh, she turned and gazed towards Fort Sumter, barely visible in the distance.

So engrossed was she that she did not realize she had company until a hand behind her reached up to wrap her scarf more securely about her neck and throat. Her instinctive scream was cut short when she heard the familiar murmur in her ear. "One must take care to protect one's voice, Christine," he gently chided her. Lowering his arms, he wrapped them around her waist and tugged her gently against him. She leaned back and sighed at the feel of him. They stood silently looking out over the quiet harbor.

Erik was not sure how long they stood there, neither speaking, before he asked, "Have you toured any of the Charleston mansions yet, Christine?"

"No. The tours we went on earlier this week concentrated on commercial, rather than residential, buildings."

"If you do not have plans for this afternoon, we could visit a mansion or two, then. I think you would enjoy that."

Christine murmured her assent and Erik released her, then offered her his arm. Smiling shyly, Christine took his arm and they set off. To the casual observer, they were simply another couple in love, enjoying discovering the city in each other's company.

* * *

They toured the Heyward-Washington and Joseph Manigault Houses, then walked along Rainbow Row and Cabbage Row, commenting all the while on the architectural details of the buildings. Although not Charleston born and bred, Erik was an avid reader and a student of history, and Christine enjoyed listening to him talk about Charleston's past. They found themselves on Meeting Street, and Erik asked her if she was hungry. 

"We can stop here, if you like. Give you a chance to warm up before we walk back to the Battery."

Christine agreed, and they went into The Cougar's Den. The hostess, drawn to the masked man, flirted with Erik, and Christine turned back, curious to see his reaction. She did not notice Jacqueline, sitting in her familiar corner booth. The woman nodded approvingly as she watched the couple at their table. Ever the gentleman, Erik reached up and unwrapped Christine's scarf, then helped her to remove her coat. Only once she was seated did he remove his own coat before hanging it next to hers.

Erik ordered tea and watched Christine tackle her burger and fries with some bemusement. He could not remember the last time he saw anyone enjoy eating as much as Christine seemed to. They sat in silence; he was not accustomed to making idle conversation, and Christine was not comfortable enough with him to chatter as she ate. Finally finished, she sat back with an embarrassed laugh. "Man, I can't believe how full I am," she complained ruefully. "It's a good thing we have a bit of a walk back to the Battery."

"If you would rather, we can summon a cab to take us back," he answered.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "I enjoyed …" blushing, she didn't finish her sentence.

Erik merely said "Very well. If you are ready, then?"

Nodding, she stood and waited for him to assist her with her coat.

Jacqueline discreetly observed the entire meal. She noticed that Erik's eyes seldom left Christine; Christine's back was to her, so she could not tell for certain, but … it did not seem that Christine looked directly at Erik unless he spoke to her. _Still a little shy, probably. Even so, this is a good and necessary step for them to take. Yes, this is good. Perhaps, if she chooses him freely, she can prevent the imprisonment I saw for her._

They walked back to the Battery in silence. Erik hesitated at his car, suddenly uncertain. Christine understood; there was no reason for the other interns to know she had met up with Erik. Smiling, she thanked him for the tour and lunch, then turned to leave. Erik stood and watched until she was inside the house before getting into his car and driving away.

* * *

The house was in its usual Saturday afternoon uproar. The guys had found a hockey game on tv, and the women were getting ready for a night on the town. Christine put her things away, then joined Meg in her suite. 

Sitting on the chaise, she watched with bemusement as Meg tried on, and discarded, outfit after outfit. Clothes were _everywhere_, making Christine wonder idly why Meg wanted to return home after a night out to a room that looked like a tornado had gone through it.

She declined the invitations to join the others at the newest hot spot and once they left, went down to the kitchen and put the tea kettle on to boil. She made a sandwich while her tea was steeping, then took her supper up to her suite. Building a fire, she sat down and ate her sandwich, lost in thought.

_What brought him here today? How did he know it was me? Why did he hold me so tenderly? Why did I _let_ him? Is Jacqueline right? _Can_ I choose Erik? Do I even have a choice? Do we have a chance at a real relationship? Do I truly want to be with him? Or is it just physical? _

_Why do I feel so ... alive ... when he is around? _

* * *

Driving home, Erik was plagued by many of the same questions. _Whatever possessed me to drive down to the Battery today? Once I saw her, why didn't I just leave? Why do I torment myself with her presence? When was the last time I just held a woman or have I even ever held a woman, outside of lovemaking? Why _this_ woman? Why now? Is it her voice? What hold does she have over me? Why do I allow her to affect me like this? _

_Perhaps … perhaps it is time to find another woman to share my bed. Perhaps … _

* * *

The developer was pleased with the site plans. "Although obtaining the necessary approvals and permits is my responsibility, it would be very helpful to have some members of the design teams accompany me to the necessary meetings." John agreed, and called in several of the architects responsible for the public buildings phase of the development. He was just closing the door to the conference room when he spied Christine at the water cooler. Excusing himself, he went to her. 

"Christine, if you have a few moments, I'd like you to join us in the conference room." Although phrased as a request, his mannerisms left no doubt in Christine's mind that this was a command performance.

The developer explained to the group that he wished to have them accompany him through the approval process. Once Christine and the architects nodded their agreement, he continued. "As the designers, you can explain why specific design elements were chosen and why these facades belong in Charles Towne Village. I, for one, am confused by the variety of styles represented here. I thought Greek Revival was the most appropriate, and yet, you've included Georgian and Federalist styles.

The architects shifted uncomfortably, waiting to see if John would respond, or choose one of them to. Looking at the group, John could see Christine alone looked eager to answer, and so, he invited her to do so.

"Charleston has a variety of building styles," she pointed out. "Between wars and natural disasters, much of the original Charles Towne was destroyed. What we call 'historic Charleston' was built over several decades, and styles came and went. As a matter of fact, the Greek Revival style was not used much after the Conflict. Therefore, if we are aiming for the stereotypical small town at the turn of the 20th century, only one or two of the buildings should be Greek Revivals."

The developer shook his head. "I know that the original concept was to be 'small town Americana' but, after speaking to the politicians and reviewing your site plans, I've realized that Charles Towne Village must be more than that. It must retain the look and feel of Charleston, and looking at these site plans, RS&A has succeeded. Please, go on."

Christine took a deep breath and continued on. She had proven to be a quick study and between what she had discovered on her own, the professional tours, and her afternoon with Erik, she could explain every architectural decision the firm had made in designing the public buildings. The rest of the group sat in silent amazement as this first year intern dazzled the developer. John finally told the group that Christine minored in U.S. history, which mollified them. Suddenly embarrassed, Christine sat down, silently fretting that she had talked too much.

"That was an incredible presentation," the developer marveled. "Do you think you can replicate it several times, if needed, during the approval process?"

Biting her lower lip, Christine nodded. "But," she added, "I didn't mean to stop others from presenting. I just got … carried away, I guess."

"Don't apologize! That was exactly the type of explanation I was looking for. John, it's up to the firm, of course, but I certainly don't have a problem with this young lady being RS&A's representative. If nothing else, her pretty face won't hurt."

Christine bit back a retort. Glancing around the room, she realized with disgust that the architects had become quite smug. _I'm going, not because I know more about Charleston architecture than the rest of them combined, but because I will be a useful distraction? I don't think so, gentlemen._

John noticed the steely determination in Christine's eyes as she turned back to the developer. "If RS&A decides to send me to the approval meetings, I will be happy to do whatever I can to help." _There! Let them take that …however they'd like to …_

One of the men mentioned under his breath that having any of the architects along would confuse the politicians with the facts, and the others laughed, albeit uncomfortably. John merely nodded, and dismissing the group, told them they would be informed as to what meetings they would attend.

In his office, Erik was flooded with conflicting emotions. He was proud and impressed with Christine's presentation, concerned that she was easy prey for a man looking for a conquest, and angry at the architects who so quickly dismissed her knowledge and ability. Stabbing his intercom button, he snapped at Maria to summon John to his office, then thought better of it. Christine was going to represent the firm throughout the approval process, and if those damned fools couldn't see it was due to her knowledge and intelligence, and not her beauty, well … that wasn't his concern.

* * *

John decided he, Alex, two other architects, and Christine would be the RS&A delegates for the approval process. The five of them met, and discussed the presentation. Much to her relief, they planned to split the presentation up. The first meeting was the following Tuesday, and John wanted the team to go through several practice sessions. 

Christine continued her singing lessons. Meg had heard the rumors about the reason Christine was chosen to represent the firm, and felt sorry for her friend once again. _It must be terrible. Do any of these men even see Christine as a human being? Or, is she merely something they can play with for as long as she's useful?_ Uncomfortable with these thoughts, Meg decided she would continue to accompany Christine to the singing lessons, but she was bringing a book along.

* * *

By unspoken agreement, Christine and Erik met once again at the Battery. "Are you concerned about the presentation? You shouldn't be, but if you are, we can go over the various finer points of Charleston architecture." 

Looking up at him, she made a face, and shook her head in the negative. "I can practically recite it in my sleep," she said ruefully. "John has had us practicing it every day, plus, I'm kinda teaching the others."

Erik nodded. "I have something else I'd like to show you, then," he replied. "That is … if you are free this afternoon."

Christine nearly burst out laughing at the sudden look of uncertainty on his face, but caught herself. "I'm free," she assured him. "What do you want to show me?"

Taking her hand, he pulled her to his car. "I have several ideas, actually. If you need a break from architecture, we can go to the beach. Or, we can visit one of the restored plantations just outside of Charleston."

Christine worried her bottom lip with her teeth, and Erik turned away from her, fearing her rejection. "As much as I enjoy architecture, I would kinda like a break," she admitted.

Nodding again, inwardly relieved, Erik started the car. Both were silent until he parked the car near the beach on the Isle of Palms. Christine waited for him to open her door. Getting out, she waited while he locked and closed the door. He turned to her, and securely wrapped her scarf around her neck and throat. Their eyes met. Her breath caught, she waited for him to move closer, to pull her to him, to lower his mouth to hers. Long seconds passed, yet neither one moved. Her eyelids fluttered, then closed, and still he did not close the distance between them. Startled, she jumped when he merely took her hand and began to walk. She bit back her disappointment and fell into step next to him.

The beach was deserted; the summer homes boarded up, but Christine was not at all concerned. She wasn't sure what had happened or why, but their relationship seemed to have changed, somehow. _Could it be? Could we have something … more? _They walked along the wet, hard sand of the shoreline, following the curve of the island until, by unspoken agreement, they turned and retraced their steps. Reaching his car, Erik held the door for her and closed it once she was in.

The ride back to the Battery was spent in silence. Once Christine was safely in the house, he allowed his thoughts to turn to her. _It is strange, how easy it is to be with her. _

* * *

Later that evening, Christine picked up her book and settled down by the fire to read. The words swam as she found herself daydreaming about Erik. _How odd … we spent hours together and most of it in silence. Yet, it wasn't awkward at all …_

* * *

Erik sat at his piano, and music spilled out. _I don't understand this at all …_


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N Thank you to my fabulous friends and fantastic betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour.

* * *

**_

The weeks fell into a familiar, comfortable pattern. The site plans were approved; the next step was the floor plans, but that deadline was weeks away. Meg accompanied Christine to her voice lessons four evenings a week. Christine spent Friday nights home alone, recuperating. Saturdays were spent with Erik.

Yet mostly in silence.

He took her to various historic sites and watched as she drank them in. Ever the gentleman, he did not avoid touching her, but there were never moments of intimacy, either. Christine felt herself relaxing more in his presence; she no longer felt the sharp anticipation she had when they first spent time alone together.

Sundays were spent alone; Erik with his music, Christine with her reading and cleaning – and her daydreams. They included Erik, of course; Christine did not expect her fantasies to come true, but she could not deny the happiness she felt when she imagined her and Erik spending the rest of their lives together.

The first Saturday in March, Erik surprised Christine with an unusual question. "There is a developer near Savannah who wishes to build a village setting quite similar to Charles Towne Village. RS&A is going to bid on the project, of course. Would you like to accompany me to Savannah? I want to get a feel for the historic area." Looking at her intently, he added, "This will be an overnight trip, Christine, but I have secured adjoining rooms." At her hesitant nod, he said, "Go and pack what you'll need; I'll wait here."

She nodded again. "I won't take long."

Christine ran into Meg, and quickly told her "Meg, I'm going down to Savannah … it's a surprise ... I'll be back sometime tomorrow."

"Sure, Christine. Have fun!" To Christine's guilty relief, Meg was running late, and really was not paying attention to her or her explanation.

She grabbed her toiletries and a change of clothing. Throwing them into her overnight bag, she began to leave, but stopped suddenly. _What about tonight? My jeans work for sightseeing, but … _blushing, she berated herself. _Get real, Christine! This is for business … he has obviously tired of your feminine charms. Fine, then! I'm not sitting around in some damned hotel room tonight … if Erik doesn't want to go out, I can got out on my own._ Grabbing a silk camisole and black slacks, she packed them, also. Finally ready, she rushed out of the house and back down the street to Erik's waiting car.

* * *

As they took Highway 17 south out of Charleston, Christine was charmed to see signs of spring along the road. Erik gave her a history lesson on Savannah; she listened attentively, entranced by the sound of his voice, even though she was not a stranger to that city. _Somehow, though, I don't think Erik will show me the same part of Savannah that Rafe did! _If Erik thought the sudden grin that lit her face odd, he did not remark on it.

* * *

_I shouldn't be surprised,_ Christine thought as the bellhop opened the door to Erik's "room." It was an opulent suite, complete with whirlpool tub. His bedroom featured a four posted oversized king bed, whereas Christine's adjoining room contained two double posted queen beds. Their overnight bags were placed in their respective rooms, and after Erik tipped the bellhop, they were alone in his suite.

Christine looked around, unable to believe her eyes. The desktop was marble; there was a velvet couch and the drapes were of the same material. The suite fairly screamed "new money;" although it reeked of the best that money could be, it was sadly lacking in the subtle class that Christine associated with Erik.

Sharing her unexpressed opinion, Erik barely repressed a shudder. "Come, my dear," Erik said brusquely as he strode to the door. "We have a lot of sightseeing to do today."

As they toured the city, Christine began picturing "their" newest proposal. Savannah claimed to be the first planned city in the US, and 21 of the original 24 squares remain. Pictures formed in Christine's mind as ideas for Colonial Park Village gelled in her mind. _Three squares, I think. Shops and professional buildings surround the first. The second will anchor the public buildings, such as the community center, hopefully a branch of the Live Oaks Public Library, churches. The third square will be in the residential area. All three squares will feature brick paver sidewalks, perhaps a working fountain, gardens, and some benches._

After a long afternoon spent sightseeing, they returned to the suite and Christine got to work. Once she was satisfied she had captured her ideas onto paper, she took a quick shower. _Good thing I brought clothes for an evening out with Erik,_ she thought to herself as she dressed. _Somehow, I can't see him in some chain restaurant._

At Erik's knock, she grabbed her pocketbook and opened the door. His eyes widened imperceptibly when he saw her, and she closed her eyes, breathlessly anticipating his kiss when he moved closer then leaned. In disappointment and surprise, her eyes flew open as his lips only brushed her cheek, then withdrew before she had a chance to turn her head and steal a kiss that was less than chaste. Taking the arm he offered, she berated herself silently. _You are such a fool, Christine. _

* * *

The evening flew by all too quickly. The food was superb, the surroundings quietly elegant, the staff unobtrusively attentive. Erik mentioned the Colonial Park Village project, and Christine bubbled over with enthusiasm.

Sitting back, he listened with amusement as she talked about the squares and the buildings and the sections and the _brick pavers, _but his amusement changed to admiration as he realized that, once again, her instincts were flawless.

Hours passed, and when the evening over, they returned to his suite. Christine swallowed her disappointment when, once again, Erik's lips brushed her cheek as he said good night and opened the door to her room. Murmuring a goodnight to him as well, she went into her room and closed the door.

Erik's eyes closed with the pang of rejection. _You fool! You know that she does not want you. She tolerates you well enough because she thinks her future career as an architect is at stake. If you told her tomorrow that she is guaranteed a job at RS&A and never has to see you again, she would be the happiest woman in the world._ Growing furious as his black mood settled over him, Erik stormed out of the suite and down to the first floor, where he had spied a piano in one of the banquet rooms. The cleaning staff was nearly finished when he entered, but no one said a word to the man who strode purposefully to the piano. Sitting down, he took a deep breath before lowering his hands to the instrument.

Anger crashed through the room, and the staff began hustling, eager to be done with their tasks. As he continued to play, however, anger dissolved into sorrow, and the workers gave up any pretense of cleaning and stood still, listening. Erik was lost in his music and did not realize the sorrow was giving way to hope. Finally spent, he rose from the piano and left the room. If he noticed the cleaning crew was still there, grinning foolishly at each other, he did not betray that.

Returning to his suite, he quietly let himself in. Closing the door, he walked over to the wine cabinet, then paused when he thought he heard something. Listening carefully, he realized that he could hear Christine moving about her room.

* * *

Christine had listened to Erik's leaving with a heavy heart. _He's lost interest in me, but … he still has needs. He prefers a stranger to me._ Tears streamed down her face as longing and pain warred with each other within her. _I could do the same thing! I'm dressed for it … I could go down to the River Walk … I could pick up some guy who would be more than happy to be with me._ With firm resolve, Christine repaired her tear-ravaged makeup, then left the room.

Her anger lasted until she reached the lobby. _Really, Christine, don't be ridiculous! You cannot wander the streets of downtown Savannah in the wee hours of the morning. Who cares if he doesn't want you. It's not like you even like him, much less love him._ She winced as the pain returned. _Oh no! No way … there's no way that I could ever, ever love him! Besides, he doesn't love me, and he's not likely to. _Jacqueline's words returned to her and her internal struggle intensified. _He's out whoring around! Why shouldn't I be doing the same? Because … because … because you're better than that! You don't "do" one-night stands. Maybe, just maybe, I should! _Suddenly feeling ill at the thought of another man's hands on her, Christine pushed the button to return to her floor.

* * *

Once she had closed the door behind her, Christine began getting ready for bed. She winced when she reached for the nightgown she had packed. The silk nightgown was definitely for _his_ benefit, and she laughed bitterly at the irony.

She washed her face and changed into her nightgown. Getting into bed, she realized that she was not going to fall asleep any time soon, and looked for something to read, but all she could find was the Bible and the hotel's directory.

After reading the hotel's directory, she decided to work on the new proposal. Going over her sketches, she remembered the conversation at supper, and throwing her pencil down in disgust, began pacing the room.

_I do NOT understand this! I feel like a damned caged animal in here. What is wrong with me? Did I really choose this? Why have I given him so much power over me?_ Opening the drapes to look at the city below, she couldn't help but wonder _Where is he? What is he doing now?_ Remembering the touch of his lips, the feel of his hands grazing over her body, she moaned. Who_ is he doing now?_ _Is "she" enjoying his caresses as much as I did? _Furious with herself, she pushed away from the window and returned to her bed...

...where she tossed and turned.

Being unwilling to face her thoughts did not make them go away, she discovered much to her dismay. She could not relax nor get comfortable enough to fall asleep, and with a muffled curse, threw the bedcovers off and got out of bed to resume her pacing.

_Maybe Jacqueline is right. Maybe, I can choose him. But, then what? No, no, that will never work. He no longer wants me._ She laughed bitterly at that. _Oh, isn't this a fine situation! I know … I've got it! … that must be it! I only want him because he no longer wants me! I don't have to choose him at all! Now that I've figured out what the hell my problem is, I can fix it._ Suddenly delighted by that revelation, she jumped when she heard a knock on the door.

Opening the door, she stared at Erik in confusion. "I heard you moving around in here," he said.

"Oh, sorry. I couldn't … I couldn't sleep," she said, averting her eyes.

"Neither can I, but then … I don't require much sleep," he said with a chuckle. "But, you need your rest. Get back into bed," he commanded.

She bristled at that. "I don't need you to tell me what to do!" she snapped.

He raised a brow at her and said, "Evidently, you do." Gentling his voice, he reached for her. "Get back into bed," he repeated.

Doing as she was told, she got into bed, turning her back to him. _This is stupid!_ She told herself, _I am not at all sleepy … I'll just humor him for a few minutes …_ her thoughts broke off as she felt the bed sink under his weight.

Removing his shoes, he slipped under the covers. Laying on his side, he pulled her back against his chest and curled an arm around her. She lay there, tensely, still angry at his high-handed treatment of her, angry that he left another woman's bed to come to hers, angry that it felt so good, so right to be in his arms again. Anger turned to surprise as began to sing quietly in her ear. Spooned before him, listening to his voice, feeling his arms around her, Christine finally relaxed and fell asleep.

_She is in bed … Erik is with her. She is in his arms, and he is kissing her, oh so gently. Her mouth moves under his … Oh, Erik, it has been so long … too long … I've missed you so. His tender kisses continue …as she wraps her arms around him … _

Christine woke with a start, realizing that she was not dreaming at all. Wanting more, she pressed against him silently urging him to deepen the kiss. Although his arms tightened, the gentle kisses continued. Christine was confused; she could feel his arousal, and yet … he was kissing her gently, tenderly …

The telephone rang. Erik pulled away from her with a muffled curse. Only two people knew he was here; if either Hannah or Maria were calling, it was important. And so, he answered the call.

It was a wrong number, but it was enough to dispel the mood. Hanging up the phone, he rose from the bed. He did not look at Christine as he reached for his shoes and jacket. Reaching the door, he told her he would meet her in thirty minutes so that they could go to breakfast before finishing up in Savannah.

Leaving her room, Erik told himself that he should be grateful the phone rang when it did. Otherwise, well, otherwise he would not have been able to stop and the two months he had spent carefully building her trust in him would have been destroyed. Yes, he would forego short-term pleasure for long-term gain.

Listening to the door close behind him, Christine continued to lay in bed. A myriad of emotions ran through her. Desire, anger, disgust, she acknowledged them all before deciding, once and for all, that she was through with Erik. _I'll work with him, because … because he has great projects in the works. But that's it! No more personal stuff. Strictly business from now on._

She showered quickly, then pulled her hair back and secured it with a ribbon at the nape of her neck. She dressed, did her make up, and packed her bag and was ready when Erik knocked at the door.

* * *

At breakfast, Christine forgot her resolve. "Where did you go last night?" she asked him. When he did not answer, she continued "Don't deny it, Erik. I heard you leave last night."

"I did not deny anything; I chose not to answer," he replied coldly. "I don't answer to you, my dear. What I did last night is simply none of your business."

Rebuffed, Christine lowered her eyes to hide the tears that had formed at his cold tone, his biting words.

* * *

There were still a few places Erik wanted to show Christine. The last place they visited before leaving for Charleston was the site of the proposed project. They rode home in heavy silence; neither one knowing how to breach the chasm that miscommunication and misunderstanding had opened between them. 


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N Many thanks to two of the best betas a writer ever had - Mandy the O and Musique et Amour.**_

_**Happy Holidays to those of you who celebrate!

* * *

**_

Arriving home, Erik closed himself off in his office and began pacing. _Dammit! What do I want with her? Why can't I just leave her alone? Or bed her and be done with it? Why did I ever think she could care for me as a man? I couldn't keep a woman before the accident – I certainly have no hopes of doing so now. Why did I think spending a few Saturdays with her would inspire her trust in me? _

Sitting down, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was the picture of despair. _Why couldn't I have told her the truth this morning? Especially after I saw how tormented she was last night when she thought I was out … _Comprehension suddenly dawned. _She thought I was with another woman. And that bothered her so much she could not sleep!_

He resumed his pacing. _Don't be ridiculous. She may have been somewhat jealous – women can be, after all – but that really doesn't mean anything._ Stopping, he stared sightlessly at the dark fireplace. _Don't fool yourself, Erik. Christine tolerates you because she doesn't feel she has a choice. Given the choice, she would never see you again._

Unbidden, Christine's question replayed in his mind. _"Where did you go last night, Erik?" What would have happened had I been truthful with her? What would her reaction had been had I said, "I was hurt by your rejection, and angry because you make me feel this way. I went downstairs to take my anger out on a helpless piano."_ Suddenly, he saw an entirely different scenario.

"_Oh, Erik, you don't know how badly I wanted you to stay with me. I was so disappointed when it was obvious that you didn't want anything to do with me. I heard you leave the suite, and I … I cried Erik." Christine would avert her eyes, suddenly embarrassed by her admission._

"_Look at me, Christine," he'd command softly. Her eyes would instantly obey, and the misery in them would cut him to the core. Placing a hand over hers, he'd squeezed it softly. "I don't want any other woman, Christine. I was hoping that, by not forcing you into physical intimacy, you could learn to trust me."_

His bitter laugh broke his reverie. _It's just as well you didn't admit the truth to her. At most, she would give you her pity. And that would be worse than her fear._

* * *

Christine made it to her suite before bursting into tears. _That was the worst two hours I have ever spent in my life! I can't do this any more. Jacqueline is wrong. I can't choose Erik … he isn't mine to choose. He doesn't want me! He can barely stand to be in the same room with me. He only tolerates me because of my damned voice._

Closing her eyes against the pain, she remembered her question. _"Where did you go last night, Erik?" I am such a fool! I knew better than to question him … what was I thinking? What did I expect him to say?_

Losing herself in her reverie, she knew exactly what she had wanted him to say. _"Christine, I want you so badly I cannot stand to be in the same room with you without holding you in my arms, kissing you, caressing you. When you turned from me, I thought I was being a fool – that you could not possibly want me …" _

"_Oh, but I do, Erik. You don't know how disappointed I was when you turned from me, how hurt I was when I heard you leave the suite."_

"_I want more than that, Christine. More than you sharing my bed … I want you to share my life."_

A hesitant knock on the door brought Christine crashing back to the present. She hurriedly jumped up, and called out, "Who is it?"

"Christine, it's Meghan. May I come in?"

"Um, sure. I was just getting ready to wash my face," Christine said as she escaped into her bathroom. She scrubbed furiously, until all traces of her tears were gone.

* * *

Rafe flew into Charleston, eager to surprise Christine. They had talked about his spring break, but he had not told her he was spending the two weekends in Charleston. He had debated about spending his entire vacation there, but Christine was simply too busy to spend any time with him during the week.

Christine was dreading the weekend. Aside from the singing lessons, she had not spoken to Erik since arriving back in Charleston the past Sunday. She assumed that their Saturdays together were a thing of the past, and the thought of two days with nothing to do depressed her terribly. _That's the only reason_ she told herself. _I'm not going to miss Erik, I am only going to miss having something to do. And … someone intelligent to discuss things with… Someone _…

The ring of the telephone was a welcome distraction from her troubled thoughts. Even so, she was nearly speechless when Rafe announced he was in Charleston. Without stopping to think, Christine agreed to meet him at The Cougar's Den that evening. She showered and refreshed her make-up, then decided to wear the same outfit she had worn the week before with Erik. Feeling more light-hearted than she had in weeks, Christine set off to meet Rafe. The weather was unseasonably warm and dry, and parking on Market Street was a mess on Friday nights, so Christine decided to walk. She paid no attention to the other pedestrians; the man who was walking behind her followed her to The Cougar's Den undetected.

Rafe greeted Christine with an enthusiastic kiss. Laughing, she pulled back, and they went inside.

* * *

Seeing Rafe embrace Christine, kiss her as if he had any rights to her, infuriated Erik. He had seen enough, and he returned to his car. He then began to formulate his plans for the weekend.

* * *

Although the bar was crowded, they were able to find Meghan and the other interns at one of the larger booths. Everyone scooted over, and made room for one more. Grinning at Christine, Rafe sat down, then pulled her onto his lap. The rest of the group teased the couple unmercifully. Embarrassed, Christine played along for Rafe's sake but she found herself dreading the rest of the weekend. _Funny, isn't it … _she thought to herself _…how different it would be if it were Erik's lap I was occupying …_

Rafe's friends found them, and announced they were going to a new place in Jamestown. Several of the interns thought that sounded like a great idea, so Christine and Rafe were left with Meghan and one of her friends. Christine scooted off Rafe's lap, barely acknowledging the sense of relief she felt. Meghan and Rafe carried the conversation; Christine found herself wishing she were home. Rafe finally noticed how quiet she was, and asked her if she was okay.

"I'm fine, Rafe, really," she answered. "I'm just tired … it's been a long week … and the smoke here is really getting to me."

"Well, then, let's get you out of here," he answered.

They walked to the car he had borrowed, and Rafe asked Christine if she was sure she wanted to go home. Although apologetic, Christine assured him that, yes, she did want to go home.

At the door, Rafe kissed her once again. He then asked, "What do you want to do tomorrow? Do you have to work in the morning?"

"No, I don't have to work," she answered. "We could just be tourists for the day, I guess."

Rafe agreed, and after seeing Christine safely inside, turned to leave.

* * *

Christine was on her way to her suite when she heard the knocking at the door. Figuring Rafe forgot to tell her something, she swung the door open and could not hide the shock on her face when she saw that the man staring back at her, scowling deeply, was not Rafe at all. Before she even realized what was happening, Erik pulled her out of the house and down the sidewalk to his waiting car. Yanking the door open, he gently but firmly pushed her into the car, then got in behind her. Once the door was closed, Peter pulled away from the curb.

"Erik! What in the hell do you think … who in the hell do you think …"

Her questions were silenced as Erik pulled her into his arms. She braced herself for his angry onslaught, but holding her quieted his temper. Instead, he gently touched her lips with his.

Christine could not believe the jolt of desire and physical awareness that went through her body at his touch. Her last coherent thought was, _why can't _Rafe's _touch do this to me, _before she was lost in Erik's kiss.

His North Charleston home was as quietly understated as Christine had dreamt. The driver stopped the car on the street, and quickly opened the door for Erik, who then assisted Christine. Looking around, she was vaguely aware of the surrounding houses and was somewhat surprised that Erik's home was in a subdivision.

His hand on the small of her back propelled her forward. As they approached the front door, Christine heard a "click." Looking around, she realized that the locks were electronic. Once inside, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Traditional in style, the Colonial's foyer split the house in half. To her right, was a closed door; to her right was a formal dining room. Straight ahead was the staircase to the second floor; beyond that, Christine could see what she assumed was the great room.

"There will be time for a tour in the morning, Christine. Right now, I think you need to get to bed."

Christine looked at Erik with quiet indignation. "Excuse me? I am not a child, to be ordered about," she informed him.

"Were you not in a smoke-filled bar this evening? After being expressly told by a doctor that you are to avoid second-hand smoke?"

Christine sighed. She really did not have an answer for that. Taking her hand, Erik led her up the stairs.

"The housekeeper and my driver are a married couple who have their own apartment on the second floor. Your suite is also up here."

Christine was very confused at this. _My suite? He thinks … he thinks I'm going to be staying here? What about …_

Erik smirked. "You will understand better tomorrow. For now, you need your rest." Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then opened the door to her bedroom.

Christine walked inside as Erik held the door for her. Thanking him quietly, Christine leaned against the door he just closed. In the hallway, Erik stood looking at the closed door for a long moment. Lifting his hand to knock, he paused, then lowered it. Finally, he turned and silently walked away.

After several long minutes, Christine sighed and opened her eyes. Her sigh became a gasp of delight; the room was breathtakingly beautiful. Done entirely in rich burgundy and ivory, the room exuded tasteful elegance. The French Provincial sleigh bed, armoire, night tables, and dresser were in an antique crackle finish. Upon closer inspection, Christine realized that the walls were covered in ivory silk. Every handle in the room was gold. An ivory matelasse covered the bed. One corner housed a desk and bookcases in the same finish as the bedroom suit. Both the chair and the chaise were covered in rich burgundy silk brocade. The hardwood floors framed three large antiqued burgundy wool rugs. The wall on the far right side of the room had two doors, so Christine went to investigate.

Opening the first door, Christine stared in delighted shock. Before her lay the largest walk-in closet she had ever seen. Three of the walls had rods and shelves; the fourth sported a full-length mirror and the door she was standing in. A center island held more storage. A burgundy silk slipper chair sat in the corner next to the door. Christine stared unbelievingly at the clothes hanging in the closet. _They look just like … they're just like the clothes I've bought … _

Closing the door, she opened the last door on the wall to find her bathroom. Done entirely in ivory with gold and burgundy accents, Christine was stunned at the luxury spread out before her. Her shower had several different showerheads; her soaking tub was built for two. There were also two sinks, which puzzled her. Glancing around, she spied a second door on the far wall. _So that's it_, she thought. _He and I will share a bathroom, if nothing else._ Not wanting to dwell on that, she closed the door and returned to her bedroom.

* * *

Christine looked around the room, not quite sure what she should do next. After several long minutes, she went back into the bathroom, where she found her favorite magnolia bubble bath and decided that sounded divine.

Sinking into the tub full of bubbles, Christine laid her washcloth across her mid-section. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and gave a deep sigh. She wasn't sure how much time had passed; her already-tepid bath water did not give her a clue. She snapped her eyes to Erik's hiss as he stepped into the cool bath. Too relaxed to argue, she silently slid forward so that he could climb in behind her. Once he was set, he settled her between his thighs and pulled her back so that she was reclining back against him. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the sensations he was creating within her as he slowly caressed her. She wondered, fleetingly, if this was yet another dream. Hearing his low chuckle, feeling his arousal, then caressing his legs, she realized that she was indeed awake, taking a bath with Erik.

Suddenly, he pushed her forward and got out of the tub. Before she really comprehended what he was doing, he had swooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed, where he tenderly laid her down. Following her, Erik gathered her in his arms. Pulling the covers over them, he settled Christine against his chest.

Christine was puzzled by his behavior, but relieved that he no longer was angry with her. Sighing softly, she relaxed against him.

He realized she had fallen asleep when he could hear her deep soft breathing. Lying there, he found a … comforting, quiet peace … steal over him. Bemused, he laid there, holding Christine, unable to explain why this suddenly felt so right. Closing his eyes, Erik fell into restful slumber.

* * *

Christine woke with a start, disoriented. She needed to go to the bathroom. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she realized that Erik was still asleep. She gently removed his arm and scooted out of the bed. Taking small steps, she quietly went into the bathroom and gingerly closed the door. Once she was finished, she hesitated. _Should I go back to his bed?_ Uncertain of his reaction should he wake to find her in his bed, she elected to go to her own.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Christine, Erik had wakened as she scooted out of his bed. With hooded eyes, he watched her creep quietly out of his bedroom. Realization hit when she closed the bathroom door, and he settled back, relieved that she had only left his bed to answer nature's call. He was disturbed, though, at how _right_ holding her the night before felt. He could no longer shrug it off as merely sex; they had not made love in weeks. He was disappointed to hear the door to her bedroom closing behind her. Lying there, Erik was not sure what he should do. After a few long moments, he rose. Taking a quick shower, he dressed and went down to get his morning cup of tea.

* * *

Hearing Erik leave the bathroom, Christine went in and took her shower. She had already found a simple navy shirtwaist dress and a clean bra and panties, and was trying hard not to dwell on the significance of the well-stocked closet. Once out of the shower, she dressed quickly and found her way downstairs to the dining room.

Erik was already seated at the table when she walked in. He glanced up from his paper, and greeted her with a simple nod.

Christine struggled to answer him civilly. _We are both adults here … there's no need to be embarrassed. And don't let him make you feel cheap!_ Trying to make conversation, she asked him if he had slept well.

"I require very little sleep, my dear," he answered. "You rested well, I trust?"

Remembering the night just spent in his arms, Christine could not quell the flush that stained her cheeks. Erik noticed, but was able to hide his smirk behind his paper.

"Mister Erik, would your guest like breakfast?"

"Hannah, this is Miss Christine Davies. She is my newest … vocal student … and will be staying here from time to time." Turning to Christine he continued the introductions. "Hannah and her husband, Peter, live in the 2nd floor apartment I mentioned to you last night. What would you like for breakfast, my dear?"

Christine's head was spinning. She was so embarrassed … the housekeeper had to know that she spent the night in Erik's bed! … and uncomfortable … after all, if not for the internship, she very likely would be someone's housekeeper, and a little jealous … _his newest vocal student? How many other young women has he slept with, and discarded, all in the name of … music!_

Realizing that they were waiting for her response, Christine finally mumbled that toast and coffee would be fine. Reaching over, she picked up a section of the paper Erik had not gotten to. She merely returned his pointed look, then opened the paper to read it. _So, he doesn't like to share his morning paper … _Feeling his continuing stare, she finally retorted, "It's the Women's Section for god's sake, Erik." He did not answer. "Besides, I'll leave the words for you … honest!", she teased.

At this, Erik blinked. "Are you teasing me?" he asked, incredulously.

Christine was amazed. "What's wrong, Erik … never been teased before?"

He shook his head, then went back to reading his paper. Christine looked thoughtfully at him for a few minutes, then opened the section she was holding.

Hannah brought Christine's toast and coffee in, and smiling, Christine thanked her.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N_ The holidays are over, and getting back in the groove, so to speak._**

_**Many thanks to my terrific friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour!**_

* * *

A short while later, Erik gave Christine a short tour of the first floor of his house. She had basically seen it all from the front door the night before, but he realized she was probably a little shell-shocked at the time. The dining room led into the kitchen; the breakfast room was on the back of the house. A small hallway off the kitchen led to a staircase, half bath, the laundry room, and garage. The staircase went to the housekeeper's apartment on the second floor of the house. The great room looked like a spread in a home décor magazine. Looking at it, Christine wondered if anyone set foot in the great room, other than Hannah dusting and vacuuming. She was certain that the fireplace was never lit.

Returning to the foyer, Erik opened the door to the left, and Christine gasped. His home office, directly below the master bedroom suite, stretched the entire length of the house. At the far end, where one would have expected the French doors to the piazza, was a home theater … a large screen television with a couple of recliners, a couch, and a fireplace. In the middle was his desk and small conference table. His baby grand piano was near the front window.

Trying to make sense of what had happened, she thought she finally understood. _He wants me here so we can continue my vocal lessons! Not for …_

Erik silently watched understanding dawn, then embarrassment wash over her face. _She thinks she's only here for the vocal lessons. At one time, that would have been true. I was just waiting for her to make her debut at Spoleto, then I was going to leave her._ Not wanting to dwell on his emotions at length, Erik closed the door and walked over to his piano. Sitting down, he found the music he was looking for and Christine began the warm-up exercise.

It seemed like hours passed before Hannah knocked at the door. At his reply, she opened the door and brought in two cups of tea. Christine accepted hers gratefully, which earned her a puzzled look. Erik was struck again at the difference between Christine and his former students. One, in particular, thought little of Hannah and Peter, and did not disguise her disdain for the couple. Christine did not notice, however. She was too busy enjoying the fragrance of the tea. Rising, Erik took his cup of tea, and after discussing the lunch menu with Hannah, guided Christine over to the couch. Christine sat down, glad for the break. She loved the singing lessons, but they were physically draining.

"Perhaps you would rather take a nap than eat lunch?" Erik inquired, his face the picture of innocence. Christine slanted a look at him, then leaning back into the couch, closed her eyes with a long sigh. Erik watched her for a few moments, then scooting over closer to her, picked her up and pulled her across his lap. Christine's eyes flew open, and just as she opened her mouth to question him, his lips met hers.

He kissed her lightly, his tongue dancing over her lips, easily avoiding her efforts to deepen the kiss. Pulling away, he grinned at her. "Someone likes to tease?" he asked.

Her knock on the door reminded them that Hannah was going to fix their lunch. The color flared in Christine's cheeks once again, and Erik laughed. He sobered quickly, though, as he suddenly realized how often he laughed in Christine's presence. _It means nothing … _

After lunch, they decided to play chess. Although Erik never doubted the outcome, he was pleased to discover that she was a worthy opponent. After her third loss, however, Christine said that she had quite enough. Chuckling quietly, he watched as she wandered back over to the couch and sat down.

He finished taking care of the chess set, then joined her. Picking up the theater system's remote, he asked, "Is there a movie you wish to watch?"

"What movies do you have?"

"Just about every movie that is out on DVD," he answered simply.

"Are you kidding? No, of course you're not," she said, asking and answering the question in one breath. "Let's see … how about … would you hate it if I told you I wanted to watch a silly chick flick?"

"You are my guest, and I want you to enjoy your time here. Name the movie, Christine, and I will not complain about your choice."

She looked at him rather dubiously, then finally said, "I know! Let's watch _My Fair Lady_."

"Alright," he said and with a few punches on his remote, queued the movie she'd requested.

Without thinking, she leaned against him. Erik decided not to question this, and slid his arm around her as he kissed the top of her head. She smiled up at him, then went back to watching the movie. Hannah came in to see about supper and agreed that it would be ready when they finished the movie. At Christine's request, it would be served in the dining room.

"I'm sorry that I'm causing Hannah extra work," she began, "but, I hate the residual odors food leaves in a room, and I figured we would probably spend the evening in here …" her voice trailed off.

"You don't have to apologize, Christine," Erik said gently. "You are my guest, and if you wish to eat in the dining room, you don't need to explain why."

"I just …" Erik's finger laid against her lips stopped her. He waited until she nodded to take his finger away, then squeezed her shoulder with his other hand.

They finished watching the movie in companionable silence. If either one noticed a parallel to their situation, it went unmentioned.

* * *

Erik held her chair for her, and Christine sat down, taking an appreciative look at the table; he to the head of the table, she to his right. The table could easily seat twelve people, and she wondered if Erik ever entertained here. _Other than sweet young singers_. Hannah had lit several candles, and the sconces shone softly on the walls. There was a fireplace on one wall, and a buffet on its opposite.

Hannah served the various courses silently and efficiently. Christine was a little uncomfortable with that, and tried to pretend she was in a restaurant, not someone's private home. The food was superb, and with Erik being good company, the conversation flowed easily. Christine was relieved to see that Erik was actually eating. It was embarrassing when she pigged out and he contented himself with a cup of tea. After dinner, they retired to his office.

"Well, my dear, how would you like to spend the rest of the evening?"

"Oh, Erik, you don't need to entertain me! Do whatever you like … I can watch TV or read or ... something."

"Nonsense, Christine. You are my guest," at the disgusted look she gave him, he amended, "I want to spend the evening with you. And so, I am asking, what would you like to do."

"Well, I would like to watch a movie, I guess. I am really kinda tired, but it is way too early to go to bed." Realizing how that sounded, color flooded her cheeks.

Chuckling, Erik responded, "That would be one way to pass the time … No. Name a movie, please."

"Oh, alright," she said crossly. "I want to watch … What? Why are you looking at me like that? I'm thinking! I have several choices, and I'm trying to decide which one will pain you the most."

Lifting a brow, Erik sat down on the couch. After a couple of minutes, he pulled her down next to him, then shifted suddenly so that she was lying beneath him. "Name the movie, Christine, or I will tickle you until you beg me to stop," he teased.

Making a face, she stuck her tongue out at him. Although he was sorely tempted to pursue that course of action, he made good on his threat instead, and began tickling her without mercy.

Laughing, she squirmed, trying to escape. He had her pinned, though, and finally, gasping for breath, she begged him to stop.

"Have you decided what movie you want to watch?" he inquired.

"No. Wait … please don't tickle me again! … I couldn't think, I was rather distracted, you know," she complained.

"I just wanted to make sure you realize … I don't make idle threats," he said calmly.

"As if I could forget that," she mumbled under her breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What movie did you decide on?"

Understanding the unspoken threat, Christine finally said, "_Pretty Woman_."

Releasing her so that he could queue the movie, Erik was disappointed when she sat up. She did not move from the couch though, and so, once the movie began, he pulled her back down and settled her next to him. Christine sighed as he curled his arm around her, and she snuggled back into him. He pressed a kiss to her hair, and imagined that he could see her smile in response.

* * *

Back at the interns' house, things were not nearly so peaceful. Rafe had arrived there earlier that day to fetch Christine, and was not pleased to find she was not at home.

"But, Rafe, I'm telling you, she's never home on Saturdays," Meg said, exasperation tinging her voice.

"And I'm telling you, she and I had plans for today."

"Really? What did y'all have planned?"

"Well, we didn't have _planned_ plans. But," he rushed to add as Meg started to answer, "we had agreed to spend the day together. Then, she went into the house, and I haven't seen her since."

"I still think you're being overly melodramatic, Rafe. It's not like someone kidnapped her or anything."

"How can you be so sure? When did _you_ see her last, Meg? Do you even know for sure she slept in her bed last night?"

"I am not her keeper! But, I have no reason to believe that she didn't sleep in her bed. This is normal, Rafe. Christine leaves Saturday morning, returns some time that evening, and doesn't talk about what she's done. That's OK, you know. She's an adult; she's allowed to come and go as she pleases."

"Well, I'm waiting here then. If this is a 'normal' Saturday, she will be home this evening. And, I am not leaving until I know she is home, safe and sound."

* * *

"This is great, Erik. I could stay up all night, watching movies with you."

"I don't think that would be wise, Christine. You need your rest."

Her temper flared, and she started to pull away from him. He tightened his grip, which only made her angrier. "Dammit all anyway, Erik, I am not a child. I do _not_ need you telling me that I need my rest."

"Do you really think I think of you as a child?" he asked wryly.

"Well, I would certainly hope not!" Her angered died as quickly as it had flared up. "Honestly, it's not all that late, and we are resting, more or less. But, if you'd rather not, I can go up to bed and … rest."

He swore he could feel her smirk. If he let her go, he certainly could not join her in bed! They would not be getting much rest. If he let her stay – what would her victory cost him? He was on strange ground here, and was not certain what to do.

"OK, never mind, then," she said with resignation. "I'll go on up to bed and leave you be."

But, she didn't move, and he didn't release his hold.

"What movie would you like to watch next, my dear?"

"I'm torn," she said, "between _Sleeping with the Enemy_ and _Chicago_."

He turned her, then, to face him. "Is that what you think? That you're 'sleeping with the enemy'?"

"No! I just happen to like that movie, is all."

Searching her eyes, he remained silent.

"Besides, _Sleeping with the Enemy_ creeps me out … I'll need to be cuddled afterwards," she said with a saucy grin.

Raising a brow, he released her long enough to queue the movie. She was still looking at him, and did not realize until the opening credits which one he had picked.

* * *

Watching the movie, Erik realized that he could not make Christine his prisoner. _But, she will never choose me. I need to remember … she merely tolerates me because she thinks she has no choice. Once she realizes she is free to go, she will leave me. _His arm tightened its grip as he winced with sudden pain. _I should end this now, once and for all. Except … she still needs her singing lessons. Once she has made her successful debut, I will leave her. But, I should still take her home tonight. I will After her movie is over. No, that wouldn't be fair. She told you this movie creeps her out and she'll need to be cuddled. Alright, then, but … I'm taking her home, first thing in the morning. _With firm resolve, he turned his attention to the movie.

Once it was over, they went to their respective suites. Christine changed into one of the silk nightgowns she found in her closet, then opened her bed. She was so deep in thought she did not hear Erik enter her room. She shrieked as his hands gripped her arms.

Chuckling, he turned her and pulled her into his embrace. "I'm sorry, my dear," he said, "it was not my intent to frighten you."

Embarrassed, she mumbled into his shirt that he _knew_ that movie creeped her out. He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head, then with a final squeeze released her so that they could walk back to his bed.

He had already turned the covers down, and Christine crawled into bed, grateful for the comfort that only he could give her. _I mean nothing to him, _she thought, _but I can't walk away from him. I am such a fool. But, I am here now, and he is willing to hold me. Just because this will not last forever, why shouldn't I enjoy this while it lasts? Is it so wrong to want him so badly? I wish I could understand what Jacqueline meant. How do I choose him? Do I have a choice? Is he mine to choose? Is there any way we could have a future together? Or, am I just a pretty face with a reasonably good voice … one of many music students he has tolerated over the years._ She closed her eyes against the pain that thought inevitably inflicted.

Watching her, he misinterpreted the cause of her pain. _I know I'm being selfish, but I can't deny myself the … comfort … I feel when she is in my arms. Just one more time; just one more night of sleep without those bloody nightmares._ He didn't understand why he felt oddly guilty, taking comfort from her presence, especially since he didn't suffer from it after they made love. Crawling into bed next to her, he pulled her into his arms. "I believe you said you needed cuddling," he murmured. Feeling her relax into his embrace, he chuckled. She roused herself enough to look up at him. Pressing his lips to her forehead he continued, "rest well, my dear. You are safe."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N _Once again, many, many thanks to my wonderful friends and magnificent betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour.

* * *

_**

Meg watched, bemused, as Rafe paced back and forth almost believing Christine was, indeed, in some danger. She finally could stand it no longer.

"Are you hungry, Rafe? We could go grab something to eat, or I could order a pizza …" she trailed off as he turned accusing eyes towards her.

"Really, Meg, I don't know how you can be thinking of food at a time like this," he complained.

"A time like what? Christine is fine, Rafe! And men claim women create drama," she added under her breath. "Regardless, you won't be doing her any good if you collapse because you haven't eaten."

"Well, maybe you're right. I am not leaving here, but I guess we can have a pizza delivered."

Meg quickly made the phone call, then cringed at the thought of watching him pace for another thirty minutes. "I swear, Rafe, if you don't stop your pacing, I am gonna lose my mind! Will you please just sit down?"

He looked at her, affronted at her complete disregard for her friend's _situation,_ as he called it in his mind. "I apologize for the imposition. You don't have to stay here merely to humor me," Rafe responded stiffly.

She rolled her eyes, no longer bothering to hide exasperation. "I don't care if you want to spend the rest of your life here, Rafe. I still think you're overreacting. Christine is fine, and she will come bouncing in the door any minute now."

"And when she does, I am sure you will be quick to laugh at me." Raising his hand, he continued, "Don't deny it! But, that's okay. I'll be so relieved to see her, I'll probably laugh, too."

"You're so cute when you're all stiff and formal," Meg teased. "I bet you could be a lot of fun, if you would just relax a little."

Rafe did not answer her, but continued his pacing. Meg gave up trying to convince him to stop pacing, and picking up a magazine, threw herself down on the couch, determined to ignore him.

* * *

Hours had passed; the pizza was long gone, and there still was no sign of Christine. Even Meg was beginning to think they should be concerned, and so when Rafe suggested they call the police, she agreed. 

The police recognized the address, and so immediately called RS&A. RS&A security came to the house on the Battery and took the report, then called their department head at his home. The Chief of Security then called Erik to let him know that one of his interns had been reported missing.

* * *

Taking the call, Hannah was in a quandary. _What do I do now? Should I go wake Mr. Erik up? Why did anyone report Ms. Davies as missing?_ Shrugging on her robe and slipping her feet into her slippers, she padded quietly down the stairs to the kitchen. Hoping against hope that Erik was in his office, she knocked on that door. She waited a moment or two, then knocked again. Still not receiving an answer, she took a deep breath and opened the door. 

The office was dark and empty. Flipping the light switch, she walked around to make sure no one was there. _Really, Hannah, do you think he's lying on the floor in here?_ and laughed at her own uneasiness. After perusing the empty room, she turned off the light and left, closing the door behind her.

And turned into Erik. "Is there a problem, Hannah?" he asked as he helped her regain her balance.

"Oh, sir, I'm so sorry, I wasn't being nosy … but the phone … the call … Ms. Davies is missing, Mr. Erik!"

Raising a brow, Erik replied, "Is that so? Last I knew, she was asleep in her suite."

"But, but, the phone … the call! … "

"Hannah! Get hold of yourself, woman." Awakened by the phone, then missing his wife's presence, Peter had joined the pair in the hallway. "Who was on the phone?"

"Mr. Erik's head of security just called to tell that one of the interns has been reported missing. Luckily, the Charleston Police Dept. had notified RS&A security."

"Ah, I see," responded Erik. "Very well, I will handle this. I am sorry your rest was disturbed Hannah, Peter."

The couple stared open-mouthed as Erik passed them and went into his office. Picking up the phone, he called his security chief at home. "How long has this … Ms. Davies, was it? … been missing?"

"No one is really certain, sir. Her boyfriend thinks she may have gone missing after he saw her home Friday night, but one of the other interns thinks Christine probably just went out for the day Saturday."

Erik's temper flared at the mention of Rafe as Christine's 'boyfriend', and it was with great effort that he tamped it down. His voice was calm as he asked, "There is no note, then?"

"No, but evidently, she never leaves a note. She just leaves the house early Saturday morning. No one is certain when she returns, though. Crazy kids are out partying half the night away … I'm sorry to have bothered you with this, Mr. Leboeuf, but I thought you'd want to know."

"No, it's good that you called. I am interested, though. What does your background tell you about this?"

"She's a typical college kid, out letting loose and having fun on a Saturday night. Her Romeo has his nose a little out of joint, and wants to blame someone for her desertion. I don't think she's really missing; I don't think there's anything to worry about."

Erik smirked at this. "Very well, then. Call the house and tell them that we'll keep our eyes open for Christine, and if she hasn't returned by … 6 PM … call security again."

* * *

Returning to his suite, he noticed that Christine slept undisturbed by the excitement caused by her disappearance. His reaction to seeing her asleep in his bed was immediate and demanding. He had planned to simply hold her while she slept, but his desire for her, mixed with his anger about her relationship with Rafe, combined and left him determined to remind her, once again, that she was his and his alone. 

Discarding his robe and pajama bottoms, he crawled into bed. Taking her into his arms, he woke her up with a harsh kiss. She did not resist, but she did not relax into his embrace either. He continued his assault until he tasted her tears.

Rolling onto his back, he gathered her into his arms and pressed her head to his chest. His hands caressed her lovingly, and he pressed a kiss to her head. "Christine! What is wrong? Why are you crying?"

Grabbing the sheet, she pulled it between her face and his chest. He repeated his questions, but she merely shook her head.

Flipping her onto her back, he pressed her into the mattress. "Talk to me, dammit! Tell me why you are crying."

With her eyes pressed closed, she wordlessly shook her head.

"Fine," he snarled, releasing her. "When you decide to stop acting like a child, and are ready to talk to me, let me know." Reclaiming his pajamas bottoms and snatching his robe, he stormed down to his office.

Hearing his office door slam hit a nerve, and Christine sprung out of the bed and into her robe. Securing it, she tore down the stairs and throwing the door to Erik's office open, burst inside. "Just wait a goddamned minute, Erik. We go to sleep with you holding me tenderly, making me feel … cherished! … and then you wake me up to use me? And I'm supposed to just lay there and smile blissfully? Then, when I'm not happy with being used, you leave me after ranting about childlike behavior? Who the hell do you think you are?"

Erik gaped at her, shocked at this unexpected outburst. Recovering, he strode past her to close the door.

"It is customary, I believe, to knock before barging in on someone," he said coldly, his back to her.

"After the way you just treated me and then stormed out, you have some nerve lecturing me about proper behavior!" Stomping over to him, she grabbed his shoulder and swung him around. He instinctively raised his hands, but did not strike her.

"Don't even think about hitting me," she snarled at him. "I deserve to know why you woke me up to _fuck_ me."

"Oh, are we back to you playing the little helpless victim?" he asked snidely. "Really, Christine, that is rather tiresome."

Anger surged through her, and without thinking, she raised her hand to his face, determined to talk to him, face-to-face for once, and end this foolish game. Before he could deflect it, she reached up and tore his mask off.

Christine paled, gasped, but stared steadily at him, unable to look away. Horrified, she took in the right side of his face. From his forehead to his mouth, thick braids of scar tissue crossed his face. The little remaining skin was thin and the network of veins was clearly visible through translucent skin. And his eye! Nearly lost in its sunken eye socket; eyelashes and eyebrow missing, long scorched away … Christine was shocked at how well the mask disguised his disfigurement.

Raising his hand to shield his maimed face, Erik turned from her, his voice surprisingly calm. "Put my mask down and return to your room. Peter will take you home in the morning."

Christine walked silently over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She'd always known he was deformed...and it didn't make a damn bit of difference to her. Resting her cheek against his back, she murmured an apology. Erik simply stood there.

He finally reached down and pushed her hands away. "I don't want your pity," he snarled at her.

Christine could not stop the tears, but with a steady voice she said, "Pity? Why on earth would I … would anyone … pity you? You are a wealthy man, a successful businessman, an accomplished musician … "

Erik spun on his heels. "Look at this!" he ordered, pointing to his grotesquely disfigured face.

"I am sorry, Erik, very sorry that you have been so injured. But, that does not make you less of a person, less of a man."

"Oh no?" he sneered. "This face changes everything!"

Christine scrunched up her face, obviously puzzled. "Really? Do you really think so?"

"Think so? No I don't think so. I know so! I know …" his sputtering was cut short as she placed her hands on his cheeks. Looking him in the eye, she raised her head as she pulled his down to hers. He looked at her in wonder as he realized she was going to kiss him … in spite of his disfigurement, in spite of his wretched treatment of her … he was frozen in shock.

Until her mouth met his. She nibbled lightly on his bottom lip, then laved it with her tongue. Her tongue swept over his bottom lip, then his top lip as she held his face in her hands. She pulled back slightly, and waited until she was certain he was looking at her. She then very gently traced the scar tissue on his right cheek with her finger, followed by feathery kisses. He stood there, stunned, as she loved upon his scars, and he hardly knew when the tears began to fall. She caught his tears with her lips, then it was her turn to hold him, to murmur soothing words in his ear. She rocked him gently until his tears were spent, then wiped his face tenderly.

She drew back slightly and waited for his eyes to meet hers.

"Well, we're quite the pair, aren't we," he said wryly.

"We are," she concurred. As they continued to gaze at each other, Christine felt the familiar heat begin coiling deep within. As Erik's eyes blazed with his answering heat, she all but felt her legs turn to water.

He leered at her and she began to giggle.

* * *

They returned to his room, and taking off her robe, Christine crawled back into his bed. After disrobing, Erik joined her. Reaching for her, he settled her against his chest and kissing the top of her head, murmured "Good night." 

Snuggling up next to him, Christine laid there, wide awake. She trailed a finger slowly down his chest, stopping just short of his waistband.

"You need your rest."

'Funny, but … I'm not at all tired." Raising her head, she blinked innocently. "Are you tired, Erik?"

"No, but …" she swallowed the rest of his statement as she lowered her mouth to his and covered his lips with her own. Her tongue surged into his mouth and he tightened his grip on the back of her head. Breaking off the kiss, her lips trailed along his jaw, nipping then kissing as she went. Her fingernail retraced its path up his chest, then back down. She nuzzled his neck, then began trailing kisses along his shoulder, then down his chest. When her mouth reached his waist, she hovered for a moment. Raising her head, she smiled slowly as her hand untied the drawstring that secured his waistband.

Opening his waistband, her hand slid past that barrier.

He nearly came up off the bed; he wanted to flip her onto her back, but something in the way she was looking at him stopped him. He groaned as her fingers circled his shaft. Tentative at first, her strokes grew firmer and bolder as she realized that he was responding to her, to her touch. She managed to pull his lounge pants down and off, then trailed kisses up his legs. Stopping, she sat up and pulled her nightgown slowly, for him, off and over her head. Before he could respond, she rose over him, straddling his hips.

Her eyes never leaving his, she slowly lowered herself until he could feel the heat of her. She rubbed herself gently against him, back and forth, and he groaned with the effort of resisting the urge to grasp her hips and either pull her down to sheath him, or flip her onto her back and penetrate her. Rocking gently, she lowered a little further, and began to slowly impale herself on him. He could not believe the sensation; she was enclosing him, wrapping himself in her heat, her exquisitely soft flesh. Once he was in, she fell forward until her forehead rested on his shoulder as her orgasm shattered her.

He was preparing to roll them over, when she rose over him again, and rode him, her hips rocking restlessly back and forth, faster and faster. His hands reached up and caressed her, stopping at her breasts to tease and torment them. And still she moved atop him, until the waves crested and broke over them both. Spent, she collapsed onto his chest. He gently placed his hands on her hips and lifted her off, before settling her next to him. She dozed lightly for a few minutes. Waking, she lifted her head to apologize for falling asleep; he chuckled. Smiling, she captured his lips once again before cuddling up next to him to fall asleep.

He did not realize until she had fallen asleep that his mask was nowhere to be seen.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N _A simple but heartfelt _thank you _to my friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour. For ... everything._**

**_

* * *

_**Once he was sure Christine was sleeping soundly, Erik slipped quietly out of bed. Donning his robe, he made his way back to his office, where his mask lay on the floor. Marveling at the events of the night, he affixed his mask and returned to bed. She moaned a little in her sleep, causing Erik's body to respond instantly and he groaned as he settled her against his side. Once he regained control, he gently moved her until they were spooned. Relaxing, he fell into a light sleep. 

His patience was rewarded once Christine woke. They made love slowly and gently and just before falling asleep, Christine wished that this night would never end.

They showered together, then each returned to their own bedrooms to get dressed. As with the previous morning, Erik was sitting at the table drinking his tea and reading the paper when Christine joined him. She was aware that he watched her under hooded eyes as she rifled through his newspaper to find the section she wanted, and so she took care to take the entire paper apart. He saw the smile flickering at the corners of her mouth and realized once again that she was taking great delight in tormenting him. _Two can play that game_ he thought to himself. Out loud, he merely asked her what she would like for breakfast.

* * *

Erik wanted her to rest her vocal chords, so there was to be no lesson that day. He was uncertain of what they would do all day – he didn't have a plan Friday night, he just knew he had to get Christine away from Rafe. Moving to the couch, he asked Christine what she wanted to do. He was pleasantly surprised when she lowered herself to his lap. She began to kiss him hungrily, but Erik kissed her lightly, then gently moved her off his lap. He wanted to kick himself when he saw the hurt look flash across her face. _She thinks I'm rejecting her! Little does she know; I want … _He pushed the unwelcome thought out of his mind as he repeated his question. 

_I want to spend the afternoon in your arms_ Christine silently answered him. Blushing, she felt his rejection all over again. She walked over to the window, and stared sightlessly outside. Realizing he was waiting for an answer, she finally said, "Perhaps … perhaps I should go home now, Erik. I feel guilty, staying here with you while … the others … are so worried about me."

He closed his eyes for a moment. _You fool_, he berated himself. _The first chance she gets, she wants to be rid of you. _Steeling his voice, he merely replied "As you wish."

Christine was glad that she was facing the window; he did not see her flinch at his cold response. Suddenly tired, she asked, "What do you want from me, Erik?"

The question hung in the air, simmering between them. _Do I dare tell her?_ he agonized. _Do I dare risk the relationship we have because I'm selfish and I want more?_

_Oh, dear God, _Christine groaned inwardly._ What have I done? I can't believe I asked him that! I had no intention of doing so … why in the hell couldn't I just let him drive me home? Why can't I stay away from him … even now, what I would give for him to just hold me._

"I … I don't know, Christine," he murmured as his arms circled her waist. She sagged against him, weak with relief. She wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but she was suddenly more confident that it would be okay.

"I've tried to tell myself that you're nothing more than one of the many music students I have taught, but … that is a lie. You're not the first one that I've slept with," she stiffened slightly at that, "but you are the first one I can't seem to walk away from."

She remained silent, not certain of what she should say.

"It's even more than that, though," he continued after a few moments. "You're the first one I've sought out … just to be with. I enjoy your company Christine. You're the first one to visit my home."

She closed her eyes as tears brimmed over. He stood there, uncomfortably aware of her silence, and knew if he looked closer, he would see her tears. Uncertainty kept him in place.

_Wonderful, Erik. Why couldn't you have just kept it simple …'I want you to sing! I want you to share your voice with the world'. That wouldn't have been untrue, and it would have saved us both this embarrassing scene._

Realizing he had not yet answered her question, he continued. "When I first heard you sing, I wanted only to bring your voice out for the world to enjoy; for the world to worship. Once I realized that I could force you to accept singing lessons, I did so, not really caring about your feelings, certain that I knew best. I planned to leave you once I launched your debut at Spoleto. But now … now I don't fool myself into thinking that I can walk away from you."

Reaching for his arms, she loosened his grip. He closed his eyes, certain that his heart was going to break.

Loosening his grip, Christine turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face close to hers. Opening his eyes, he searched hers, suddenly confused, unable to believe the … _acceptance!_ … he saw in them.

"I don't know what this means, Christine," he warned her. "All I know is … you are more to me than your voice, or your abilities as an architect, or your body."

Her eyes grew troubled. "I'm afraid I don't handle uncertainty well, Erik," she finally admitted. "Before, before I could be angry or hurt or flattered because I know you wanted my voice or my body. But, now … "

"Now, I am giving you the choice, Christine," he said gently. "I no longer wish to force you to do my will. You are ready for your debut, so it is up to you to decide if you wish to continue your lessons with me, or practice on your own. Your future as an architect is not contingent upon pleasing me in any way; you have proven yourself on a professional architect level, and I would be a fool to let RS&A lose you. You can walk out of my office right now, without a backwards glance, and it will not adversely impact your life."

His heart sank at her continued silence.

_Not adversely affect my life? Is he kidding me? The thought of never seeing him again, never enjoying his easy company, never being in his arms again … _A soft, though still unbearable ache shot through her with those thoughts. _Oh, Erik! _

He searched her eyes again quietly as if he could figure out what she was thinking by simply looking into them._ She hasn't moved away from me, so perhaps … perhaps she will choose … Don't be a fool, Erik! Why would she choose you? You are a monster … a monster …_

"I love to sing, and I always knew I had a good voice. But, with your help, it has become even better. I'm a little nervous about Spoleto, but I trust you … you wouldn't have arranged for me to sing if you didn't think my voice was good enough."

"Christine …"

"Wait!" she commanded softly. "Please, let me finish," she amended. "Architecture is my first love, and I am really enjoying my internship. You are a shrewd businessman, Erik … I'm not worried about losing my job. I'm doing the best job I can, and I know I'm damned good, for a beginner."

_I wouldn't qualify that_, he thought to himself but he waited silently for her to continue.

"But, it's more than that for me, also. I can sing or not, I can work as an architect or not, but if you were to disappear … I don't know what the future holds, Erik. All I know is I feel more alive when I am with you than at any other time. I enjoy your company – the Saturdays we've spent together have been wonderful – and I don't want to lose that."

Relief coursed through him as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Christine …" he began, but she cut him off.

"You don't have to say anything else, Erik. I'm not looking for promises or any of that. You're giving me the choice, and I'm choosing. I just wanted you to know that it's not because you're my voice teacher or my boss. And you're wrong. Walking out of your house now, without a backward glance, will most definitely adversely affect my life."

His lips covered hers in a brief, gentle kiss before he pulled away. Her eyes flew open, and met his. Silently, they searched each other's eyes before Erik pressed another kiss to her mouth. Staring into his eyes, Christine felt the familiar heat begin to build. He smirked, then kissed her again. Christine urged him to deepen the kiss, but he again lifted his head.

"Erik," she pleaded, her voice thick with need.

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand to her mouth and gently traced her lips with his finger.

Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard. "Okay, when I'm in a puddle at your feet …"

He chuckled, then squeezed her briefly, before pulling away. "Actually, I had another idea for today. Have you been to Georgetown yet?"

She blinked, not certain she had heard him correctly. Chuckling, he left to speak to Hannah. Then with his keys in hand, he returned to escort Christine to the car.

* * *

Traffic on US 17 towards Georgetown was light, and the drive was an easy one. Soft music played in the background, but neither one felt the need to talk. 

Christine could scarcely believe the events of the past few hours, beginning when Erik had so roughly awakened her in the night. She giggled softly at the thought of asking him to pinch her, just so she'd know she wasn't dreaming this wonderful day.

He turned to her with a questioning smile, and she reached over and squeezed his hand. _It feels so right to be able to touch him, just because I want to!_ she thought happily.

_I never would have thought the weekend would have turned out like this,_ he thought. _Never in my wildest dreams did I dare believe that a woman would choose to stay with me._

* * *

Arriving in Georgetown, Christine noticed with some disappointment that many places were closed. The stores along the Harborwalk were not, however, and hand-in-hand, the young couple explored the various shops before walking along the Sampit River. 

"If you like, we can come back here during the week, when the museums and whatnot are open," he mentioned to her finally.

"This is such an interesting town, Erik … yes, I think I would like to come back when we can take a tour … perhaps the River Boat?"

"If you like, certainly."

One of the small shops sold ice cream and fresh lemonade, so they stopped in and enjoyed a mid-afternoon treat before deciding to wander through the neighborhood behind the shops.

"Excuse me, y'all, but I couldn't help but overhear. This y'all's first visit to Georgetown?"

Smiling at Christine, Erik turned to the shopkeeper. "Yes, ma'am, it is," he answered gravely, and Christine bit her lip to keep from laughing.

_I'd forgotten how formal … how correct … he can be!_

"Well, did y'all make reservations with Miss Nell?" At their blank looks, she continued, "Oh, y'all must go on Miss Nell's guided tour. She only gives tours by appointment on Sundays, but … I'll just go and give her a call, and see if I can't sweet talk her into giving y'all her special treatment."

The woman departed, and Christine covered her mouth to stifle the laughter which threatened to erupt. Erik's bemused look was nearly her undoing, and she kicked him under the table.

"What? Christine! Did you just …_kick_ me?" he asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry, Erik," she said, her face belying her apology, "I'm trying so hard not to laugh, and you're not helping me any!"

He raised a brow, and was rewarded with peals of laughter. Christine was dabbing at her eyes when the shopkeeper returned.

"Oh, I have just got the best news for y'all," she exclaimed. "Miss Nell was at home, and was going stir crazy. She is so excited that we have new visitors who want to take her tour. She said to tell you she will get here just as soon as she can."

Erik and Christine exchanged a look, and Erik consulted his watch. "I'm afraid we are on a bit of a tight schedule," he began. "We have reservations for 6 PM in Charleston."

The shopkeeper waved off his concern. "Not to worry! Miss Nell will be here shortly, and y'all can stop the tour whenever y'all need to. The full tour takes just a bit over an hour, most days."

Christine pretended to study the brochure on the River Boat tour she had picked up, knowing that she did not dare look at Erik. _Spontaneity certainly does not seem to be his strong suit!_

* * *

True to her word, Miss Nell came in to claim her two tourists a short while later. Erik explained that they had a bit of a time limit, and she assured him that they could cover the twelve block tour in just over an hour. 

All that they saw convinced Christine that she wanted to return when the museums were open. In the meantime, they spent a very enjoyable afternoon in the company of a very knowledgeable and talkative tour guide.

* * *

Driving back to Charleston, Erik felt a strange regret that their weekend was nearly over. _I can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much,_ he thought with amazement. _She is so enjoyable to be with, even if she does laugh at my expense!_

_This weekend is nearly over… _She frowned, watching the road pass by, then looked over to Erik._ How I wish I were going home with him tonight, instead of being dropped off at the house on the Battery._

* * *

"Rafe, it is only 5:45. We were told not to call security until 6 PM," Meghan reminded him patiently. 

"I can't believe how … _calm!_ you are," he complained again. "Christine's supposed to be your best friend, yet you're not one minute worried about her."

Meghan sighed. "Rafe, I'm as concerned as you are," she put up her hand at his snort, "but, I don't see what purpose it will serve for us to both get all worked up about it."

"Oh! So you no longer believe she's going to come back, safe and sound?"

"I did _not_ say that! Yes, I do think she's fine, Rafe. She will be home shortly," but her voice trailed off. _Christine, where are you? Please, please, please be alright …_


	21. Chapter 21

_**A/N Thank you to two very special readers, who refused to give up on me! This chapter is for you, G and T.**_

_**Thank you, also, to my friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour. I don't know what I'd do without y'all. **_

* * *

Erik followed Christine into the interns' house and Rafe eagerly pounced on her, demanding to know what had happened, where had she gone, was she all right.

The emotions of the day were too much, and Christine snapped. "Good Lord, Rafe, I'm _fine_ I'm sorry you were inconvenienced and concerned when I wasn't here yesterday, but really! You drop in unannounced, and expect me to drop everything to free my weekend for you? Sorry, but you are _not_ my 'boyfriend' and you _don't_ have the right to expect that."

Although he was gloating as she ripped into the younger man, Erik did his best to hide his smirk. It was true that their relationship had undergone a major change that day but she was still a first-year intern working for his firm. From what he had seen of Rafe, he would not have been surprised if Rafe tried to convince Christine to file a sexual harassment complaint against him.

"Thank you for the ride home today, Mr. Leboeuf. I am sorry to have caused so much trouble."

"It was no trouble at all, Ms. Davies," Erik replied smoothly, "I am relieved that security found you, none the worse for wear."

Christine bit the inside of her mouth as laughter threatened to erupt. _My, what good actors we are! _Meg looked a little confused by the formality, but did not want to get Rafe worked up all over again, and so she said nothing.

Rafe was not sure what had happened, but he understood. Christine thought of him as a friend and nothing more. He wasn't sure what he would be doing the following weekend, but he knew he would not be in Charleston with her.

* * *

Erik left, and Christine excused herself. "I need to take a shower, shake this weekend off, y'all."

Meghan followed Christine to her suite. "Christine, I can't believe how nasty you were to Rafe. The poor guy spent two days worried sick over you and …"

"I know, Meghan," Christine sighed. "I should not have ripped into him like that."

"Well, I think you owe him an apology."

Christine looked at her friend, not bothering to hide her curiosity. "Seems to me, Meghan, than you are more upset than the situation warrants. Hm...maybe..."

Meghan angrily cut her off. "Look, Christine, I realize that you're used to coming and going as you please, not answering to anyone, but … Rafe _believed_ you when you told him y'all could spend Saturday together."

Christine had the good grace to blush. "That's true, Meghan, I did tell him that. And I meant it at the time."

"What happened, Christine?" Watching Christine's face, she changed her mind. "Oh, just forget it," she snapped, "I don't want to hear your lies. I'm going back downstairs to keep _your_ guest company."

* * *

After she showered and changed, Christine returned to the kitchen. Rafe and Meghan stopped talking as she walked in, and she laughed uneasily. "Don't you love it when you walk into a room and the conversation stops?"

"I was really worried about you, Christine," Rafe began.

"I know, and I'm sorry, Rafe, I really am. I can't talk about this weekend … please believe me when I say that I did not mean to stand you up yesterday. But, it's better if you don't try to contact me again," she added.

"Better? For whom? I am your _friend_, Christine. I care about you. I don't know what's going on, but you can call me any time. As a matter of fact, I was hoping we could spend next weekend together."

Christine could not hide her alarm. "No, Rafe. Please, try to understand."

"Understand? You're not making any sense, Christine. Why are you so afraid? Who are you protecting?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she laughed shakily. "I'm not in danger and I'm not protecting anyone."

"Christine, you're the one being melodramatic!" Meghan exclaimed. "Don't push this off on Rafe."

Understanding dawned as Christine looked at her friend. She nodded slowly, then stood up. "I'm sorry, Rafe," she said as she left the pair.

* * *

"You really shouldn't be so hard on her, Meghan."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? You're defending her, after what she did to you this weekend?"

"I am more convinced than ever that she was kidnapped! It's not all that uncommon for victims to fall for their captors, which would explain why she's protecting him. Why else would she say she can't talk about it but she didn't mean to stand me up? And that last remark about it being better for me not to contact her again " Brooding, Rafe began pacing the floor. "And I'm willing to bet that her boss knows more than he's saying."

Suddenly comprehending, Meghan jumped up. "That's it! He's behind her strange behavior, somehow. You should see them together, Rafe. During her singing lessons …"

"You've seen them together? Other than today, I mean?"

"Oh, yes! He's been giving her vocal lessons for weeks. She asked me to accompany her, because … ohmigod, Rafe! She asked me to go with her because she's _afraid _of him!"

"Well, that makes sense. He is her boss, after all. And a freak to boot. Did you get a load of that mask? I bet he thinks it makes him look like some damnromantic!"

They stared at each other, horrified. "Rafe, do you think Mr. Leboeuf was behind Christine's disappearance this weekend?"

"I don't know, Meghan, but I think we should find out. I will be back next weekend. In the meantime, promise me you won't let Christine out of your sight."

Nodding her agreement, Meghan saw Rafe to the door. "Call me if anything odd happens" he said as he left.

* * *

"Christine, can I ask you something?"

Turning to her friend, Christine nodded.

"Did you spend the weekend with Mr. Leboeuf?"

Flushing, Christine snapped angrily. "I told you, Meghan, I simply cannot talk about this weekend. Please don't bring it up again."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm your friend, Christine, and I'm worried about you. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

Sighing, Christine turned away. "Nothing's wrong, Meghan. But, thanks for the offer. And, I am sorry I worried y'all this weekend. I would have called you if I could have."

"Well, Rafe thinks ..."

"Rafe thinks _what_, Meghan?" As the silence stretched, she repeated her question. "What does Rafe think? If it has to do with me, I think I have the right to know."

"Well," Meghan began with obvious reluctance, "he thinks … he thinks Mr. Le … Erik! … kidnapped you this weekend!" she said in a rush.

At the shocked look on Christine's face, she continued, "I know, _I know!_ that is ridiculous. I tried to explain to him … about the singing lessons and all … but that just seemed to agitate him more."

Christine's head was swimming. _Rafe suspects Erik _kidnapped_ me? And Meghan told Rafe about my singing lesson.! Dammit, Erik, what a mess you've created!_

Meghan continued, but Christine was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't hear a word the other woman said.

* * *

Meghan accompanied Christine to Erik's office Monday afternoon, determined to scrutinize their behavior and report back to Rafe. But, from what she could tell, Erik and Christine's relationship was exactly what they claimed: he was her music teacher. He greeted them both pleasantly enough, then immediately began the warm-up exercises. The lesson went well, and saying good night, the women left.

"Rafe, I'm telling you, there's nothing to tell. Mr. Leboeuf treats Christine like she's his student, she treats him like her teacher."

"Well, they wouldn't be the first teacher/student duo to fool the world with their innocent-looking relationship," he retorted darkly.

Meghan sighed. "Rafe, you're just going to have to trust me on this. Look, when a man and a woman are 'involved' with each other, they give off little clues … touch each other, however briefly, meaningful looks, double entendres, inside jokes that only the two of them get. There was none of that, and truthfully, there never has been."

"Perhaps you don't pay close enough attention," he suggested. "You miss the … clues, as you so aptly called them."

Rolling her eyes, she merely said, "Perhaps."

"He may think he's clever and debonair and all that, but he doesn't fool me. He has plans for Christine beyond her debut at Spoleto. It's up to us to see that he doesn't hurt her."

"Fine, Rafe. I'll pay closer attention during her lesson tomorrow."

"I certainly hope so. I'm depending on you, and Christine's safety may, also. You're her best friend, and she needs you right now."

* * *

Meghan forgot to take along any reading material, and so she watched Erik and Christine closely during Tuesday's lesson. _I hate to disappoint you, Rafe, but …nothing is going on between these two, other than innocent singing lessons._

Christine was aware of her friend's intense scrutiny, but she shrugged it off. _I'm about to make my singing debut in front of a rather large crowd …I may as well get used to being watched._

Erik, too, noticed Meghan's unusual interest in the lesson, but dismissed it as unimportant.

Once Christine's voice lesson was finished, he gave her a book, mentioning that there was some information within it that may be of interest to her. Christine thanked him politely, and the two young women left his office. Christine waited until Meghan was in her car to open the book. Inside was a folded slip of paper with a cell phone number on it.

Christine was smiling as she left the garage.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Rafe, if those two are having a fling, it's the most tepid one I've ever seen."

"Surely you don't think I think Christine is capable of a … fling, do you?" he asked, horrified.

Meghan rolled her eyes. "Rafe, she's just another student to Mr. Leboeuf, and just another red-blooded American girl. I wouldn't be surprised if she's already had a fling or two." At his shocked silence, she added, "I never would have pegged you for such a prude, Rafe."

"I'm not a prude, as you so snidely put it. I just happen to know women better than you think, and Christine's behavior has always been beyond reproach. I respect her immensely, and should think that you would, too."

"Well, if your respect for her is tied to her virginity, it's not worth much."

"I'm beginning to think you're not the person I thought you were."

"Thank God for that, then! Wake up and smell the coffee, Rafe. Christine is not interested in you, and it's not because she's being seduced by her boss/music teacher." Punching the button to disconnect the call, she missed having a telephone receiver to slam down into its cradle.

Rafe sat there, dumbfounded, as the realization that Meghan had hung up on him sank in. _Well, you may not think Christine needs me, but I know better. And I'm coming back to Charleston on Friday whether either of you like it or not._

* * *

Erik had to cancel Wednesday's lesson, so Christine and Meghan decided to stop at the Cougar's Den on their way home from work. Jacqueline was at her corner booth, and she beckoned the younger women over. "Are you meeting others?" she asked, "or would you care to join me? I must confess, I'm quite curious to hear how things are working out for you, Christine."

She looked at Meghan, who shrugged. Christine slid into the booth first, then Meghan sat down also.

"There's not much to talk about, Jacqueline," said Christine. "I lead a very boring life, I'm afraid."

"That's not true!" exclaimed Meghan. "Christine was kidnapped over the weekend ... Mr. Leboeuf rescued her and brought her home."

Coloring slightly, Christine averted her gaze. _Dammit, Meghan!_ Aloud she merely said, "Meghan is prone to exaggeration, I'm afraid. Although she is correct in that Mr. Leboeuf brought me home, safe and sound, Sunday evening."

Jacqueline sat quietly, processing the information that she was receiving from the two women. _It's unfortunate that Meghan is here. I will just have to sift through all of this on my own tonight … a lot of extra work, when I would rather be using my energies to help Christine…_

The server came and took their orders. They had nearly finished when the rest of the interns came in and spied them. Carlene came over and invited Meghan and Christine to join them at the new place in Jamestown. Meghan accepted instantly. Glancing at Jacqueline, Christine decided she did not want to go. Once Meghan was certain Christine did not mind, she excused herself and the noisy group left.

"Well, that worked out well," Christine said wryly.

Jacqueline laughed softly. "Indeed. Christine, you know I will not ever do anything to intrude upon your privacy, don't you?" Once Christine nodded her assent, she continued. "I had very, very strong feelings about you … late Friday night, most of the day Saturday. I couldn't help but feel you were being held somewhere, against your will. Now Meghan mentioned something about you being kidnapped … I'm worried about you, Christine."

Christine could not hide her grin. "Oh, Jacqueline, there's nothing to worry about! Erik did surprise me Friday night, and he took me to his home. It's fabulous! You wouldn't believe the suite he set up for me … the clothes … okay that was kinda creepy."

"How was that?"

"It was like he knew everything I had bought here in Charleston, and replicated my purchases. Only, he bought even more than I had … " she stopped, unable to prevent the blush that stained her cheeks. "And, you would not believe the lingerie, Jacqueline!"

"So, tell me more about your weekend, Christine."

"Well, Erik surprised me Friday night, and he took me to his home."

"Wait. What do you mean by 'surprised' you Friday night?"

"Well, I had gone out with the other interns … Rafe was here, also. Most of them went to that new club in Jamestown … the one they went to tonight … but Rafe and I did not. I was tired, and the smoke was getting to me, so I asked Rafe to take me home."

"And he did?"

"Yes. I was just on my way upstairs when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it, thinking Rafe had forgotten something, but …"

"Yes," Jacqueline encouraged. "Who was at the door, Christine?"

"Erik. He … he grabbed me and pulled me outside … then propelled me to his car. Once we were inside, I started to question him, but ..." blushing now she finished in a mumble, "he pulled me into his arms and started kissing me."

"What happened then?"

"A short while later, Peter – his driver – parked the car. I was surprised to see that Erik lives in a subdivision in North Charleston."

"Do you know where he lives? Could you find his house again?"

"No," she admitted, rather embarrassed.

"Could you have left at any time?"

"Well, I didn't know where I was, and I didn't have a car …"

"Do you hear how this sounds, Christine? Anyone listening _could_ think you were kidnapped and held beyond your will."

"But it wasn't like that!" she protested. "Erik was the perfect host, the perfect gentleman … until, well, we had a bit of a fight Saturday night. But on Sunday, we talked, and Jacqueline, I finally realized what you meant."

"Oh? And what was that?"

Feeling more than a little annoyed at Jacqueline's unenthusiastic responses, she answered, "About choosing him."

"Christine, please listen to me. You may not like what I am going to say, but please hear me out."

"What?" she asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Erik's behavior has been very manipulative, Christine. Search your heart, and ask yourself, 'If I could choose any man, would it be Erik?' Don't answer too quickly … I want you to really think about your answer. He has manipulated you, sexually, mentally, physically, emotionally. Can you forget that? Forgive him that?"

"You're right, I don't like what you are saying, Jacqueline. Erik may have been manipulative in the beginning, but not any longer. He even told me so on Sunday. He told me that I could walk away from him, and my future would be bright." She closed her eyes against the pang, then taking a deep breath, opened them to look directly at the other woman. "I chose Erik, Jacqueline. I could have left him – Peter would have driven me home – but I chose to stay with him. He hasn't made any promises, but I'm not looking for any. I'm not deluding myself … he will continue to drive me crazy. But, I love him." She continued to look steadily at Jacqueline as the other woman studied her carefully.

"All right, then Christine," she finally said. "I am glad that you recognize that this relationship will continue to be challenging. I wish he wouldn't have carted you off on Friday, but … you seem none the worse for wear."

Christine laughed. "Carted me off? You make him sound like a cave man."

"That cave man is alive and well in men today, Christine. He felt threatened by Rafe, and he dragged you off to his cave."

"I don't get it, Jacqueline," she complained. "First you tell me I need to choose Erik, then, when I do, you're not happy with my decision."

"Are _you_ happy with your decision?"

Christine's smile was her answer.

Promising to keep in touch, she said good night and left.

Jacqueline frowned thoughtfully at her retreating figure. _Perhaps she is right. Perhaps she did, in fact, choose him of her own free will._ Still, she could not rid herself of the feeling of foreboding.

* * *

Thursday evening, Erik lent Christine another book. She waited until she was in her car before opening it. She could hardly believe her eyes as she read his note.

_I have business in Savannah this weekend, and would like you to accompany me. I plan to leave mid-afternoon on Friday; please make the necessary excuses so that your friends do not feel compelled to report you missing. _


	22. Chapter 22

_**A/N Thank you to my friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour ... your assistance is invaluable!

* * *

**_

Christine stared at the note in disbelief. _Nothing like courting a girl, Erik,_ she thought ruefully. _And less than 24-hour notice to concoct a believable story …_

Preparing dinner, she remembered that one of her friends from Clemson had a cabin in the Smokies. _Should I let Jane know that I'm 'using' her family's cabin this weekend? How odd would that be? Hello, Jane? This is Christine … you know, Christine Davies.? Look, I'm going out of town to meet my lover, and I want to use your family's cabin as my cover. Do you mind? _

She packed her overnight bag and took it to her car, relieved that she had gone undetected.

As luck would have it, she was running late the next morning, and Meghan had left before Christine could mention her weekend plans. Seeing Carlene, Christine asked her to let Meghan know she was going to spend the weekend with a friend from Clemson. Her conscience gave a little twinge, but she soothed it, reminding herself that the little white lie didn't hurt anyone, and it was better than simply disappearing again.

* * *

Apologizing for the short notice, Christine asked Alex for the afternoon off. He waved her off, and she was relieved that she did not have to fabricate a story for his benefit. Maria called her at 12:30 to remind her of her appointment. Shutting down her computer, she realized that everyone else had left for lunch. _Good thinking on your part, Erik. We can leave while everyone else is gone, and no one will be the wiser._

She noticed Erik's car waiting for her, and she opened the passenger door. "Follow me, we'll leave your car at my house. Leaving it here for the weekend may raise questions." Nodding her agreement, she closed the door and went to her car.

* * *

After leaving her car in Peter's capable hands, they set off for Savannah. They had not been on the road long when Erik realized she was probably had not eaten.

"Are you hungry? Would you like to stop for lunch on our way down?"

"We can hit Mickey D's if you like, Erik." At his blank look, she continued: "Oh, come on! I can't believe you've never hit the drive-thru at Mickey D's at 1 in the morning!"

"Drive thru?" he questioned. "Where does one eat when one 'hits' a fast food drive thru?"

"Well, it depends. You can take the food home and eat it, or you can eat it in the car." At his incredulous look, she amended: "No, maybe not. Well, normal people, who don't drive luxury sedans, eat fast food in their cars."

He quirked a brow at her. "Are you implying that I'm not normal?"

"Oh Erik. You are so uniquely … _you_!" she said, laughing. "Normal is an insult, almost. Anyways, we don't have to eat in your car … we could go in and eat. What? It's not poison, you know!"

"If you were with … someone else … what would you do about lunch?"

"We would hit a fast food drive-thru. I would get an order of fries and a diet soda, and would happily munch them in the car."

"What about … residual food odors, I believe you called them?"

She sighed. "Yes, that is the one downer to having fast food in the car," she admitted. Staring out the window, she saw the marquee for one of the nicer restaurants. "Or, we could eat there," she said. "It's not very likely that we'll run into anyone from work here."

"Do you have a problem with that, Christine?"

"With what?"

"Keeping our relationship quiet."

"Are you married?"

His look and lack of comment was enough answer for her.

"Then no, I don't have a problem with it."

* * *

Erik ordered tea, Christine a full meal. "I wish you would have ordered something to eat," she complained.

"I am not hungry," he simply said. "But, that shouldn't stop you from enjoying your meal."

"Erik, not much stops me from enjoying food," she admitted ruefully. "Back to our earlier discussion, though. It would be easier if you weren't my boss."

"Well, I'm really not."

"No. You're just the owner of the firm I work for. Get real, Erik! You know what I meant."

"No, I'm afraid that I don't."

Heaving a sigh, she tried to explain. "It would be a lot less complicated if I worked for another firm."

He raised a brow. "Consorting with the competition would be easier?"

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she closed her eyes in frustration.

"I don't know why you're trying to make this complicated, Christine. It's quite simple, really. Our …" his voice trailed off as he searched for the word, "… seeing each other has nothing to do with your position as an intern, or your music lessons, for that matter. Each role is separate from the other."

She gaped at him in disbelief. "You don't mean to tell me that you actually believe that? And people think I'm naïve!" Brushing aside his sudden affronted protest, she continued. "My roles … as _your_ intern, as _your_ music student, as _your lover_ … are inextricably entwined, Erik." Suddenly realizing that her voice had raised along with her mounting frustration, she sank back into her seat. "I'm selfish, Erik. I don't want to give any of that up. But, I don't delude myself. Once people are aware of our relationship, my work as an architect will be heavily scrutinized and any shortcomings will be held up for ridicule."

"I think you're making far too big a deal of this, Christine."

Shaking her head, she sighed heavily. "You just don't get it, Erik. Just because you aren't held to the same rules the rest of us are doesn't minimize the consequences I will face for breaking them. And a woman sleeping with her boss to get ahead … that's classic."

"Is that what you're doing, then?"

"No! You know it's not. But … other people …"

"Other people and their petty gossip is of no concern to me."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I simply cannot be quite that blasé about it. It's not your reputation that will be dragged through the mud. RS&A is a firm to be reckoned with, and you're safe."

"Ah, I see. You're looking to me to make sure you are adequately compensated …" he broke off in shock as Christine threw her napkin down and stood up, white faced and angrier than he had ever seen her.

"I cannot believe how obtuse you are pretending to be, or why you think turning this against me is acceptable," she hissed. "I am going to the ladies' room to try to collect myself. And to decide how badly I want to maintain my … _roles_," she spat the word at him, "…in your life. Because that was the most insulting thing you could have said to me, sir."

Turning, she made her way blindly to the restroom, praying that the threatening tears would not fall until she was safely tucked inside a stall. _Why did I even bring this up to him? I should have known he would never understand the position I am in. _

Erik sat stonefaced at their table, barely acknowledging their server when he returned with their check. _What in the hell was that all about? Why is she borrowing trouble? Is she regretting becoming involved with me? _

Blotting her eyes, she brushed her hair and refreshed her lipstick before returning to their table. He rose as she approached, and taking her arm, escorted her back to his car.

Neither one spoke until they were back on Highway 17, heading south to Savannah. Christine was the first to break the silence, as she asked him about the plans for the coming weekend.

Erik was relieved that whatever had distressed her earlier seemed to have passed.

* * *

They arrived in Savannah and checked into their hotel before setting off to look at the properties Erik's real estate agent had alerted him to. "If … _when_… we are awarded this project, some RS&A employees will be done here on location. I thought we could spend some time today looking at what's available."

"Hey, my favorite way to spend the day. I love looking at houses that are for sale!"

Christine fell in love with one of the historic houses not too far from their hotel. Facing one of the famed squares, the mid 19th century house had been discreetly modernized – electricity, kitchen appliances, central air conditioning. Overall, though, it had been lovingly restored and the plaster moldings and ceiling medallions and the hardwood floors had been fashioned by skilled craftsmen. Three stories tall, the master suite and a smaller bedroom were on the top floor. _That would make an ideal nursery,_ Christine thought, gazing at the room. Three additional bedrooms were on the second floor, while on the first floor, the kitchen and dining room opened out onto the courtyard. The carriage house at the back of the property had a multitude of possibilities, including being converted to a music studio.

The final property they toured was a block of townhomes on Madison Square, which Erik felt would work out well for the other employees who would be transferred to Savannah for the duration of the project. Returning to their suite; Erik placed telephone calls to his attorney and his accountant while Christine showered before dressing for their evening out.

Stepping out of the shower, she donned the fluffy white bathrobe thoughtfully provided by the hotel. Walking back into the bedroom, she was surprised to see a dress was set out for her. Simple, yet classy, the navy, floor-length tank dress and sheer long-sleeved duster was perfect for the final Friday evening of the Savannah Music Festival. She was putting on the finishing touches of her makeup when he entered the room.

Smiling at him in the mirror, she began to rise. "Stay where you are," he commanded softly. "I have something on loan that I think you may wish to wear tonight. Face the mirror but close your eyes."

Christine felt a prickle of excitement as she did as he asked. She could hardly bear the suspense, though, and held her breath until she heard the clasp. "Now, then, what do you think?"

Opening her eyes, she gasped as she took in the sapphire and diamond encrusted necklace circling her throat. Handing her the jeweler's box, he added, "Here are the matching earrings. You don't have to wear them, of course …"

The rest of the sentence was lost as Christine jumped up, whirled around, and threw herself into his arms. "Of course I will wear them!" she exclaimed. "They are gorgeous!"

"Not nearly as gorgeous as the woman they grace," he replied.

Blushing, she pressed a kiss to his mouth.

"Unfortunately, they are only on loan," he said again.

"To be able to wear them, just for one night, is more than enough, Erik. I can't believe all the trouble you've gone to … theater tickets – at the last minute, no less, this dress, the jewelry … I don't know how to thank you."

"Seeing the pleasure you derive is more than thanks enough, Christine."

_I am the luckiest woman in the world!_ she thought happily. _And it has nothing to do with the jewels that I'm wearing. Perhaps he'sright. Perhaps I am borrowing trouble._

A discreet knock at the door announced that their ride was waiting for them.

* * *

Christine did not believe the evening could get any better, and then she saw the horse-drawn carriage waiting for them in front of their hotel. Erik helped her in, then settled himself beside her. She smiled up at him and remarked, "A girl could get used to being spoiled by you."

Chuckling, he kissed her lightly.

* * *

Seated in their box, Christine could hardly wait for the concert to begin. It did not disappoint; the violinist was world-renowned. She excused herself during the intermission, and assured Erik he did not need to escort her to the ladies' restroom. He was concerned, though, when she returned, looking distraught and colorless.

"Christine! What's wrong? You're so pale! Are you ill? Would you like to leave now?"

Swallowing hard, she turned to him, taking her seat, chagrined she could not hide her distress. "Ohmygod, Erik … No, I'm fine. The concert is wonderful, and I don't want to miss a moment of it."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I overheard a couple of women chatting in the restroom, comparing the Savannah Music Festival to Spoleto."

He still looked confused, so she continued. "Erik! All these people! Am I really going to make my debut in front of … all these people?"

"Well, perhaps not the _same_ people," he teased.

Closing her eyes, she moaned softly. "I … I don't … I don't think I can do it, Erik."

"Of course you can, my dear." _I need to see if we can't get into the theater before her performance … perhaps it won't seem nearly so bad to her if she becomes more familiar with it._

The concert resumed, and Christine forced herself to relax and allow the music to carry her away.

* * *

Returning to their suite, she removed the borrowed jewels and watched as Erik locked them in the room's safe.

"Well, one good thing is … nobody knows my name, so perhaps there won't be that many people at my debut."

Erik shook his head. _Most performers dread looking out and seeing a less-than-full house … Christine is praying for that! _Aloud he merely said, "You will do fine, Christine. You are more than ready for your debut; the world is going to fall in love with your voice."

Still looking skeptical, she replied, "Well, of course you are going to say that! This was all your idea."

Wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled her neck. "And do you think me so low as to set you up for failure?" he murmured.

"Well, no," she admitted finally. "It's just …"

"Hmmm?" he whispered in her ear as his hands slowly slid over her before reaching her shoulders to remove her duster. He backed up slightly to free the coat, and Christine swayed slightly once he was no longer supporting her. His voice skated over her as he unzipped her dress, then pushed it off her shoulders. Once freed, it pooled at her feet, leaving her clad in her lacy navy lingerie and strappy sandals.

"Turn around," she commanded softly. She waited a moment, then repeated "Turn around!"

Once he did, she stepped out of her dress and walked over to him. She worked his suit coat off, but then was uncertain how to accomplish ridding him of the rest of his clothes. _You had it easy, Erik! All I had on was a dress which zipped up the back. You have your tie, dress shirt, belt, trousers … how can I take them off you from behind?_

Realizing her dilemma, Erik answered her unspoken question. "Either let me turn around, or allow me to unfasten my clothes."

"Close your eyes."

"All right."

"And keep them closed!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Dropping to her knees, Christine untied and removed his shoes. Standing up again, she said, "You may unfasten your clothes." As each article was loosened, she removed it

Stepping out of his trousers, he began to turn to her. "May I turn around now?" he asked with deceptive lightness. "And keep my eyes open?"

She hesitated for a moment, then agreed. Turning around, all thoughts of teasing her fled as he gazed at her. "You are so beautiful," he finally managed.

Smiling, she opened her arms to him. He caught her in his embrace and they stood there for several long minutes, kissing each other hungrily. He gently pushed her backwards, until her legs hit the bed. He turned to break her fall. Squirming in his arms, she realized she was still wearing her sandals. Pulling away from him, she reached down to kick them off.

"Thank you, my dear," he chuckled. "I would not have wanted to be speared by one of your spiked heels."

Leaning down, he kissed her shoulder, then started to slip off her bra. She stopped him, though, and he looked at her quizzically.

"Take off your mask," she said. "It has to be uncomfortable for you to leave it on 24/7 … you don't ever have to wear it around me." He did not respond at all, and after several moments, Christine reached over to remove it herself. He pulled back, away from her. "Erik, I've seen you without your mask … I made love with you without your mask. Please, take it off."


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N Sorry for the horribly long delay in posting; hopefully it won't happen again. This chapter is dedicated to my loyal readers - thank you._

_A huge thank you also, to my friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour ... y'all are the best.._

**

* * *

**

His hand moved with obvious reluctance to his face. Closing his eyes, he steeled himself for the sudden intake of breath which would betray her shock. He was startled to feel her hand on his.

"Erik, look at me," she commanded softly. "Open your eyes and look at me."

She didn't realize she was holding her breath until he finally raised his eyes to hers. Her hand released his, then moved to his face, sliding easily over his chin before it met the edge of his mask. Keeping her eyes firmly on his, her lips parted in a gentle smile, encouraging him to trust her as her fingers worked to free it. Swallowing hard, he fought the urge to look away. Finally, the mask slid off, and she let it drop as she caressed his marred skin.

Feelings he could not name coursed through him, and he leaned into her palm for a moment before drawing back, marveling at the acceptance he saw in her eyes.

* * *

His mask habitually replaced, Erik lay awake listening to her soft breathing. He was very pleased with the events of the day. _She seems to have recovered from her fit of pique at the restaurant, and the house we found will work out well for us._

They rose early to prepare for their meeting with the Colonial Park Village developer. They would have Sunday free, and he wanted to know what she wanted to do.

"Have you ever visited Tybee Island?"

"No, I don't believe that I have."

"Oh! Then, we must go there on Sunday. We can have dinner at The Crab Shack."

He looked a little dubious at this, but chuckled at her enthusiasm and agreed.

"Did you bring a pair of jeans, Erik?" At his blank look she amended her question. "Do you even own a pair of jeans? You don't, do you! I cannot believe … anyone in this day and age … well, we will simply have to go shopping before hitting the island. You can't go all dressed up to The Crab Shack!"

At one time, Christine would have acquiesced and changed her request to mollify him. Not any longer; he told her she could decide what they were going to do, and she wanted to go to Tybee Island. They were just going to have to hit the mall first. Erik was a little surprised at how adamant she was, but he was a man of his word, and he agreed they would spend Sunday on Tybee Island.

* * *

Five other firms had submitted proposals for Colonial Park Village. Christine noted nervously that, unlike RS&A, they sent entire teams to meet with the developer. "How do we compete with that?" 

Not realizing she had spoken out loud, she started when she heard Erik murmur near her ear. "Relax, Christine. We will be awarded this project based upon our vision." Squeezing her hand, he added, "RS&A doesn't need a whole team; I am counting on you to dazzle the developer."

Christine began to sputter indignantly then stopped as she saw the glint in his eye. "You're teasing me, aren't you!" He merely squeezed her hand once more before releasing it.

With a quick glance at his watch, he began to move to their display. "Come, my dear. It's your turn to shine."

* * *

Patrick O'Donnell studied their plans in amazement. "This looks like a miniature Savannah!" 

"Although we have done typical subdivisions, one of RS&A's strengths is our ability to design state-of-the-art homes that would blend into small town America at the turn of the 20th century," Erik began. "It was typical, especially in New England, to build around a town square. Savannah is thought to be America's first "planned" city, and Oglethorpe incorporated twenty-four squares. RS&A included three squares as a nod to Savannah's architectural history."

"Go on, please."

At Erik's barely perceptible nod, Christine took a deep breath and picked up the laser pointer. Flicking it on, she pointed to the different areas on the board as she spoke. "We knew we wanted multiple squares. One option is to lay them out, side by side – a large rectangle broken into three squares. Entering the Village from the north, the government buildings would face the south end of the rectangle. The commercial buildings would face the north end of the rectangle, and would back up to the river. Townhomes would face the west side of the rectangle; cottages the east side. This will allow most of the property to be developed into residential buildings."

"But, that's not what you're proposing."

"No. Our second proposal separates the squares into three distinct parks with a mixture of residential, commercial, and government buildings. The diversity makes each square more interesting, but it carries the risk that the Village will splinter into three separate communities."

O'Donnell nodded. "Yes, I can see how that could happen. That is not what I am looking for in this project."

Glancing at Erik, Christine moved to the third board. "This combines the ideas from the first two proposals, then expands upon them. The three squares are the points of a triangle. The first square will be commercial and professional buildings. The square will feature a pavilion with picnic tables so that residents and visitors can pick up something to eat at one of the little shops, then wander over to the pavilion to eat. Moving southeast, the second square is at the apex of the triangle, and this is the heart of the residential area. There will be a mixture of housing styles facing this square. In addition to picnic tables and benches, this square will include a playscape for the children. Continuing south, there will be half-acre lots for the 'estate' houses, most of which will back up to the river. .Following the river west, the third square will anchor the community buildings and churches. There will be a sidewalk and retaining wall along the riverfront. The town hall will face north on the river side of the square. Its western wall can be used to show movies. There will also be a pavilion in this area; the final decision on its placement has not been made. It can either be the focal point of the third square, or it can be along the riverfront."

"You will leave all three boards?"

"It is customary, I believe, to only leave the board depicting the proposal," Erik growled.

Christine looked at him with surprise.

Patrick lifted his hand. "Trust me, if we do not choose RS&A, I will return all three boards to your firm. I am simply amazed at the amount of time and effort you put into this proposal. The first two plans more than met the criteria; that you continued on and developed the third proposal says a great deal about the integrity of your employees and the quality of work you expect."

Christine could not stop the hated blush from heating her face, but stared resolutely at their third proposal.

"Well, I need to go listen to the other proposals," Patrick said apologetically. "But, I would hope, if RS&A were to be chosen, that both of you would be in attendance as this project takes shape."

"I believe that could be arranged," Erik conceded, not wishing to reveal that they had been house hunting. "The Charleston project is well underway, and no longer requires my constant supervision. It is a given that Ms. Davies would relocate to Savannah, as she is an integral part of the team which developed this proposal."

Promising him that he would get back with him shortly, Patrick moved to the next group.

* * *

"Well done, my dear," Erik said approvingly as he took her arm. 

Christine allowed herself a fleeting sense of triumph.

"We can't be sure, of course, until he gets back with us. My hunch, though …"

"… is that RS&A will win the project!" Christine finished for him. "Do I get to choose which townhouse I get?"

"Townhouse?"

Christine blushed. "Oh, sorry. I thought you … RS&A … were going to buy the townhouses for us to live in for the duration of the project."

"Well, yes, that is the plan … " he stopped as they reached their destination.

Erik ushered Christine into the little, charming restaurant and waited until they had placed their orders before resuming their conversation. "Yes, RS&A is looking into purchasing a row of townhouses for its employees, Christine. But, I thought you would share my home."

Christine looked at him in shock for several long minutes. Finally recovering, she spoke. "You didn't listen to a word I said yesterday, did you? I would like to know just how you will explain …" her voice trailed off under Erik's stare. She sighed and amended her question. "I realize that you do not need to explain anything to us mere employees," she was pleased to see his brow quirk at that, "but, I do need to be cognizant of my professional reputation. All I need is for someone to start the rumor that I am receiving advantages because I am giving special favors to the boss."

"Is that your only objection to living with me in Savannah?" he questioned quietly.

She closed her eyes suddenly, as if she were in pain. Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes, careful not to look at him. Her face impassive, she asked if there was another problem she should be aware of.

"Look at me, Christine."

She resisted the pull of his voice, knowing that he would read the truth in her eyes. _I love him, and now I know he will never love me in return. I told him last week I wasn't looking for promises – I wasn't looking for anything from him. So, now I get to prove that to us both._

"Look, Erik, I know it would certainly be … convenient … for us to live together. But, I've never thought much of that type of arrangement, and I really don't think it would be a good idea for me to move in with you."

"Apparently I overestimated you, my dear. I thought you were beyond the game-playing stage," he answered snidely.

"I'm not playing games, Erik. I don't judge others who choose to live together; I just know it isn't right for me."

"But, you have no problem sharing a man's bed," he stated flatly. "I should be pleased – my initial assessment of your character was correct after all."

Christine closed her eyes against the pain. _Why is he doing this to me? Why can't he even try to understand where I'm coming from?_

Seeing the pain in the moment before she closed her eyes, he had a brief stab of conscience. _Am I being unreasonable?_ he wondered idly. _Is her distinction a valid one? Am I asking her to compromise her integrity by living with me? No! I would never do such a thing – how dare she even suggest it!_

Their server brought their food, and they both picked at their food in the tense silence. The relief was palpable when she returned to clear their plates. Once that was done, Erik finally spoke.

"I believe we should wait to go shopping until tomorrow. You must be exhausted from the presentation today."

"We don't need to go to Tybee Island, Erik. I know you'd really rather not."

"Nonsense. I promised you we would spend Sunday there, and I am a man of my word."

_Great. _She sighed inwardly._ Another 24 hours of this?_

Returning to their hotel, Erik excused himself and turned on his laptop. Stung at his curt dismissal, Christine fled to the bedroom. Closing the door, she leaned against it for a moment. _Get a grip, girl. Enough of this feeling sorry for yourself._ Shaking herself, she groaned as she saw the aura which preceded her migraines, then went into the bathroom, returning with a cold, wet cloth. Pulling the drapes in her bedroom closed, she laid down on the bed with a barely audible groan, then placed the cloth across her forehead. _Damned blasted man! Damned blasted migraine …_

Erik had just switched on his laptop when he heard her movement, then her moan. Seeing her lying on the bed, with the cloth across her forehead, he was filled with remorse. _I should have made her eat,_ he berated himself.

Crossing the room, he lowered himself onto the bed at her side. He gently pushed her hair back from her face, and repeated his thought aloud. Had he not been watching her intently, he would have missed the slight shake of her head.

"Obviously, you needed to eat. Instead, you let your emotions get the better of you, Christine."

"Dammit, Erik, stop. My head is killing me, and the lack of food has nothing to do with it. And I sure as hell am not going to argue with you right now."

Rising, he stopped at the doorway before answering her. "Well, it's settled, then. You are in no condition to make the trip back to Charleston tonight." He jumped as the cold wet cloth hit him between his shoulders, then turned to look disbelievingly at it lying on the floor at his feet.

Raising his eyes to her, the sight of her unusually pale face dampened his anger. Picking up the cloth, he refreshed it, then walked over to her bed. "Lie down, Christine, and keep this cloth on your head. I shall return momentarily."

"I'm … I'm sorr–"

"Hush," he said gently. "Close your eyes and try to relax."

Christine was vaguely aware of Erik's return. Supporting her carefully, he put a glass to her lips and held it as she drank. Once she had finished it, he settled her back down, then began to sing, his voice lulling her to sleep.

* * *

Christine slowly became aware of her surroundings. She felt the bed beneath her, the cover draped over her, the recently refreshed cold cloth on her forehead, the man sitting quietly, watching her. She felt like she was floating, and was content to merely float. 

"Ah, I see you're awake. How is your head?"

"My headache is gone! I don't know what you gave me or what you did, but, it's gone. Thank you," she said as she reluctantly opened her eyes and peered at him.

"I merely saw to it that you were resting. I am fairly certain that you are hungry. Would you like to go out to dinner, or shall we order room service instead?"

Gingerly sitting up, testing to see if her headache truly was gone, she swung her legs off of the bed. "What time is it?"

"Not late … 6:30."

"Well, if you don't mind waiting for me to freshen up, I'd like to go out."

He smiled, suddenly remembering her remark about food odors remaining in a room. Rising, he assured her that there was no rush. "I'm going to work online while you get ready. Take your time."

* * *

Standing in the shower, Christine replayed the events of the past twenty-four hours. _Two fights … neither of which were resolved. This is stupid, and it can't go on. I need to tell him that …_

Once dressed, she went into the suite's living room. Catching sight of Erik engrossed in whatever was on his screen, her heart did a sudden flip-flop. _Why do I love him so? Why did I fall in love with a man who doesn't love me in return? I need to end this torment now._

"Erik, I've changed my mind," she said briskly. "Since our business in Savannah is done, I would like to return to Charleston tonight."

"More games, Christine?" At her silence, he continued coldly, "as you wish, my dear."

The ride to Charleston was spent in miserable silence, both feeling very unloved and misunderstood. Still Christine was shocked to receive an email from him at work the next morning.

_I have another business venture requiring my attention, and I don't know when I will return. You know what I expect regarding your singing lessons; practice on your own, but don't overdo it. Your voice is ready for Spoleto – don't disappoint me, Christine._


	24. Chapter 24

_**A/N As always, a special 'thank you' to my betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour. Y'all are the best!

* * *

**_

The work week dragged on. Christine was torn between annoyance that she was looking for a message from Erik, relief that he was gone, and missing him more than she could believe.

Driving home, she was feeling incredibly disappointed. _A whole week without hearing from him … and now an entire weekend to myself! Why does that not appeal to me?_

The other interns were getting ready to go to The Cougar's Den, and Christine impulsively decided to join them.

An hour later, she was squeezed into their corner booth, laughing as Carlene relayed a humorous incident involving a couple of architects and the developer of Charles Towne Village, when suddenly a picture on the television screen in the corner of the bar caught Christine's attention. Tuned to a celebrity station, the program was featuring a gala in London. She froze as she realized that she was staring at a picture of Erik, who was looking rather grim in spite of the beautiful woman hanging on his arm. The rest of the group slowly looked up to see what had her mesmerized, then Meg broke the silence with a forced laugh. "Guess that puts to rest any rumors, doesn't it Christine?" she murmured softly to her friend. "There's no way Mr. Leboeuf could be interested in you when he has women like that around him."

Pasting a smile on her face, Christine quietly acknowledged the truth in Meg's words. _Thank God you didn't agree to share his home in Savannah,_ she told herself bitterly. _I can't believe how close I came to throwing my career away!_ The rest of the evening passed in a blur, as Christine drank round after round of beer. Meg noticed, with some dismay, but shrugged her shoulders. _She's a big girl – she can get drunk if she wants to._

At the opposite end of the bar, Jacqueline sat in her own corner booth. She had a couple of appointments for later that evening, but wanted to get settled in before her clients arrived. Glancing up as the server took her order, she saw the same celebrity program. Her eyes opened in shock as she stared at the picture of Erik escorting a beautiful woman at some function in London. _How could I have missed that? Any time I read Erik, his energies were clearly pulling to Christine! Who is this other woman and why is he allowing her to hang all over him? I can't believe he left Christine in Charleston and flew to London to meet her!__ of all people_ Jacqueline's shock deepened as she realized just who the woman on Erik's arm was.

The sudden arrival of her clients stopped her reverie. Jacqueline remained too busy the rest of the evening to spare any thought for Christine, Erik, or Erik's past.

Christine didn't fully realize how much she had drank until she stood up to leave. Laughing hysterically, she joked about being hammered. Joe, the most insufferable of the other interns, making a great show of Southern chivalry, rushed to her side. Wrapping an arm possessively around her waist, he guided her through the bar and to his car, with Meg trailing along close behind them. Once they reached the house on the Battery, he helped Christine up to her suite, amazed at how she was clinging to him for dear life. Only Meg's hovering presence stopped him from exploring just how grateful Christine was for his assistance.

* * *

Arriving home, Jacqueline fixed herself a cup of tea, then went online and Googled "Erik Leboeuf." It did not take her long to find what she had been looking for, and as she read the articles, memories assailed her from all sides.

"Brilliant musician and composer Erik Leboeuf critically injured in devastating fire" the headline blared. "Beautiful protégé escapes injury as the opera house burns following her triumphant premiere!" proclaimed another. "Origins of mysterious fire may never be explained," "Musician expected to make a full recovery despite severe burns which melted much of his face," "Protégé's career uncertain," … Feeling ill as she relived the incident, Jacqueline stayed up for hours, reading everything she could find about the accident. _Or was it? Just what was your part in this, Erik? If you were responsible, why did you choose the night of your brilliant protégé's debut? What does this mean for Christine?_

Horrified, Jacqueline snapped the computer off. _Is the strange sense of foreboding I had related to this?_ Finally deciding that she was too involved to be able to do a clean reading that night, Jacqueline prepared for bed. _It is important that I find out what he is … planning … with regard to her. But, she is not in any immediate danger. I will be in a better position to help her after I've rested,_ she told herself as she slipped into bed.

* * *

Christine woke up and groaned as the light hit her eyes. "Turn off the light," she mumbled to herself before she realized it was the sun, blazing in through her windows. Getting out of bed, she stumbled into the bathroom. After brushing her teeth and taking some aspirin, she fell back into bed and buried her head in her pillow.

She wanted to cry as she heard bells ringing in her ears. Finally realizing it was her cell phone, she waited for voice mail to pick up. The tone blasting through the room told her that someone had left her a message, but she was too sick to care.

Having finally fallen back to sleep, she was rudely awakened by someone using a jackhammer. _What in the hell are they doing out there?_ she wondered angrily. After a couple of minutes, she realized that what she could hear was someone knocking on her door. Not sure her voice would work, she forced herself to sit up. Waiting for the room to stop spinning, she wanted to scream at whoever was pounding on her door. Recognizing that they were not going to just go away, she reluctantly climbed out of bed and shakily made her way across the room. and opened the door.

"Christine! I just wanted to make sure … I was worried about you!" Meghan claimed, much too loudly.

Closing her eyes against the bright light, Christine merely nodded. Even that slight movement was nearly too much, and she held onto the door, waiting for the room to right itself. Finally giving up, she slid down the door until she was sitting in a heap on the floor. She bent over sideways to rest her head, and finally opened her eyes again. "Meghan, I am going to die," she finally said sorrowfully.

Meghan tried not to laugh as she looked at her friend. "I don't think a hangover has ever killed anyone, Christine."

"I am never going to drink again … not ever," she vowed mournfully.

"Well, you can probably still enjoy a drink or two. But, you may want to cut yourself off after that."

"I don't even know how much I drank last night."

"Well, I didn't keep track, but … you were tossing them down like water."

"Ugh," she moaned as she remembered "Bottoms Up!"

"Can I get you anything?"

"A new head?"

"Have you eaten anything today?"

Christine merely groaned at that.

"You need to eat! Let me go see what I can find in the kitchen for you. You need to drink some water too, Christine."

"Go 'way," she mumbled into the rug. "Ewww," as she realized she now had fuzzies in her mouth on top of everything else. Struggling to sit up, she reached out a hand. "Help me up, please?"

Meghan hurried over, and within a few minutes Christine was back in bed. "I'll be right back," she promised. "I'll see what I can round up … surely the guys have some home remedies for hangovers."

A short while later, Meghan returned with some bottled water and a plate full of meatless spaghetti. "Christine! The guys all agree – eat this, and you'll feel good as new in about an hour or so! Come on – sit up," she cajoled her prone friend. "It's got to be worth a try – could you really feel any worse?"

Rolling over, she struggled to sit up. She looked at her friend's eager face, then cast a doubtful eye on the tray Meghan was holding. "Are you sure this isn't a trick?" she asked suspiciously.

"If it is, I will help you exact your revenge," Meghan promised. "But, try trusting them on this, okay?" At Christine's dubious look, she finally said, "Okay, let me use your laptop. I'll search online, and see what I can find." A short while later, she read the article that confirmed what the other interns had told her. Nobody seemed to know why, but tomatoes helped "cure" a hangover. She was relieved to see Christine finally eating.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Meghan called Rafe. "Did you catch the Celebrity Channel on cable last night?" she asked him without preamble.

"No. There was a frat party on campus that a bunch of us went to. Why do you ask?"

"Mr. Leboeuf was on it. He was escorting a beautiful woman to some gala in London last night. Christine didn't know anything about it. See? I told you there was nothing going on between them!" she ended triumphantly.

"Why do you think that proves anything?"

"You should have seen the woman he was with, Rafe! Gorgeous! Stunning! There's no way a man would ever go from a woman like that to a girl like Christine."

Rafe was torn between relief and wanting to defend Christine. "Any idea who this woman was, Meghan?"

"No, but I bet you could find out easily enough. Just go to the Celebrity Channel's website, and look up last night's programs."

Thanking her, Rafe ended the call and began to search online, looking to solve the mystery that was Erik Leboeuf.

* * *

The interns were going to a party on the Isle of Palms, and Meg urged Christine to attend, also. Although she was feeling a lot better, Christine begged off. Once the noisy group was gone, however, she began to doubt the wisdom of her decision. Having finally decided to treat herself to a spa-at-home night, she was headed for the stairs when the doorbell rang. Without thinking, she opened the door. A courier was standing on the porch.

"I have a package for a …" stopping to read the label "… Ms. Christine Davies. Can you sign for it?"

"A package? For me?" she looked at the courier quizzically.

"If you are Ms. Christine Davies, then yes, this package is for you," he answered her with a grin.

Shaking herself, she realized how stupid she must appear. "I'm sorry. Of course, I can sign for it." She did so, and thanked him as he handed her the large envelope.

She had barely closed and locked the door before she began inspecting the package for a clue as to who had sent it to her. Not recognizing the return address, she finally just tore it open. A small piece of note paper fluttered to the floor and she picked it up to read it.

_My dear Christine,_

_I saw Erik Leboeuf on the Celebrity Channel last night. He was escorting a beautiful woman to a gala in London. I was puzzled by this, because I have read his energy. All of his intentions are towards you, my dear._

_The matter nagged at me the entire evening, and I spent hours online, researching your Erik. I am enclosing print outs of the articles I found. Please read them carefully._

_I would like to meet with you at your convenience to discuss the articles, Erik, your feelings, etc. I will call you later to set up an appointment. There will be no charge, of course. I feel like we are friends, and I am very concerned for you._

_I am free Sunday – tomorrow – afternoon. I would like to meet with you then, if that works for you._

_Love,_

_Jacqueline_

Christine slowly folded the note. Holding the package to her chest, she moved woodenly towards the stairs, suddenly regretting her decision to stay home that night.

* * *

Rafe could not believe his eyes as he read several accounts of the mysterious fire the night that Catherine made her triumphant debut. She was the last of Leboeuf's protégés to do so – until Christine's scheduled debut in June. He was puzzled. Although all signs pointed to arson, Leboeuf had never been charged with the crime.

_None of this makes sense! Why would he spend all of that time training a protégé, only to sabotage her debut? What does this mean for Christine? Meg is right; Christine does not hold a candle to Catherine. I need to warn Christine!_ Picking up his phone, he pushed the speed dial button. Tapping his foot impatiently, he had to resist the urge to throw the damned phone out the window when his calls kept going to her voice mail. _Christine, answer your phone, dammit!_ He finally consoled himself; whatever Leboeuf had planned, Christine was safe while he was in London.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Christine, Meg had put her phone on vibrate so that it would not disturb her friend's sleep earlier that day, and so she did not know of Rafe's frantic attempts to reach her. She sat on her bed, reading the articles that Jacqueline had sent to her. _I don't understand this, Erik. Did you start that fire? If so, why? _Finally preparing for bed, Christine was grateful to Jacqueline. _Funny, but it's easier to speculate about an incident from several years ago than it is to think about Erik and that woman, together in London._

Wondering why Jacqueline had not called as promised, Christine got up and searched for her cell phone. Once she found it in her pocketbook, she discovered with a start that she had missed over a dozen phone calls that day. _What in the world is going on? Let's see … Jacqueline called me earlier today … Rafe? Rafe? Why in hell did Rafe call me so many times? Oh, and Jacqueline did call tonight. Hopefully, she left me her number so that I can call her back._

Retrieving her messages, she discovered that Rafe had not left any. Jacqueline had left Christine her cell phone number, so she called the other woman. After a brief conversation, it was agreed that they would meet at the Battery at 2 PM the next afternoon. "Christine, I don't want to sound paranoid, but … I don't think we should discuss this in a house that RS&A owns. One never knows – the walls could very well have ears."

Christine shivered at that. _I've never been scared to be here before; I should not be jumping to conclusions! There is no way Erik has wired this house!_ The unbidden memory of Rafe's suspicions about her laptop came to mind, though, and she agreed to meet Jacqueline at the Battery.


	25. Chapter 25

_**A/N Once again, my undying gratitude to my wonderful friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour.**_

* * *

After meeting with Jacqueline, Christine felt more confused than ever. _I wish she would just tell me what to do! I am so tired of the games everybody insists on playing!_

After a sleepless night, she finally composed a note.

_Erik,_

_When I was at your home, you assured me that I was free to do as I please. I am taking you at your word. I want to end my vocal lessons._

_I will sing at Spoleto, of course, because I will not embarrass either one of us by backing out now._

_Thank you for your time – I only hope I don't disappoint,_

_Christine Davies_

Refusing to feel anything, she moved through the ensuing weeks like an automaton. The only thing left was her dress for her debut at the Spoleto Festival. Unable to make a decision, she impulsively decided that she would wear her dress from the Masquerade.

She was going to be part of the Intermezzi; a series of late afternoon concerts. Her program was to last one hour and fifteen minutes.

* * *

Catherine Flores was hailed as the most beautiful woman in the world. Long-legged and willowy, she moved with the natural grace of a dancer. Her jet black hair, when allowed to be unbound from its usual upswept style, fell straight to her waist. Her green eyes sparkled with intelligence and wit, and although the comparison was trite, her voice sounded heaven sent.

Christine could not believe her name was on the same program as the legendary 'Cat Flores'.

She was backstage, getting ready for her part in the Intermezzi. Meg was buzzing around excitedly, and so Christine kept sending the other woman off on errands. She was only listening with half an ear as Meg came back to report on the other performers.

"Christine, come quick! Remember the woman Mr. Leboeuf was with that night in London? She's here! And, she's even more beautiful in person. You have got to see this woman!"

Rising, Christine crossed the room. Once in the doorway though, she stopped, stunned as she watched the scene unfold before her eyes. Erik was crossing the room, his eyes glued to Cat's face. Her face was lit with delight as she watched him come to her. Reaching her at last, Erik took Cat into his arms and welcomed her warmly. Closing her eyes against the sudden pain, Christine stumbled back to her makeshift vanity. Meg was mesmerized by the tableau, and did not notice her friend's distress.

"Christine, have you ever seen a woman as beautiful as that?" she asked.

Taking a deep breath, Christine steadied herself. "No, Meg, I can't say that I have. She certainly is striking."

"And, I've heard her voice rivals her face!"

_Thanks, Meg. Keep rubbing it in. You are such a fool, Christine, to think you can compete with that woman. Erik has already forgotten that you exist._

* * *

Rafe had convinced his father to hire a security guard to keep an eye on one Erik Leboeuf. Mr. Chamberlain remembered the incident with Cat Flores well, and shared Rafe's concern. However, as the other man had not been formally charged with a crime, the Charleston Police Department would have no reason to keep him under surveillance. Therefore, a private guard was hired, with express instructions to not interfere in any way unless Ms. Christine Davies was in danger.

Rafe noticed both Erik and the guard in the balcony of the auditorium. He breathed a sigh of relief; Erik would not be able to start a fire undetected. A man would have to be a sharpshooter to be able to shoot at someone on stage from the balcony, and Rafe knew that there was no way a rifle could have been smuggled into the building. He grimaced at himself, deciding Meg was right. He _was _being ridiculous.

Finally, Christine heard her introduction, and she made her way to the stage. Her rigorous training stood her in good stead, as she lost herself in her music. She had her own cheering section as many of the RS&A employees and interns were on hand, in addition to Rafe and his family. She was well-received, and although she could not find him in the crowd, Erik was pleased with her debut.

Back in her dressing room, Christine was pleasantly surprised when Meg announced she had a visitor. Rising, she turned to the door with a smile as Rafe entered.

"Christine! You were wonderful! I never knew you could sing like that. My parents and sister are here, and we would love to have you, oh and you, Meg, as well, join us for a dinner celebration at their hotel. Please say you will."

"Thank you for the kind offer," Christine began as she glanced past Rafe and saw Catherine leaving on Erik's arm. "I can't speak for Meg, but I would love to join your family for dinner. Meg?"

"If you're certain," Meg answered uncertainly as she looked between the pair. Seeing only friendship, she could not resist the chance to spend some time with Rafe, and she quickly agreed.

* * *

_My memories of her voice did not do her justice,_ Erik thought with amazement. _I did not think it possible that she could sing any more beautifully than I remembered. Even so, Christine has the better voice._

The pair spent a quiet evening in her hotel suite, laughing and reminiscing about her music lessons. It was nearly midnight before she rose. "It was wonderful to see you again Erik," she said as she gently kissed his unmasked cheek. "I have a fabulous life now, and it is all thanks to you."

Taking his leave, he wondered why he didn't want to stay with her. _Well, if I could walk away from Cat, I can certainly leave Christine! My job with her is complete … she had the triumphant debut at Spoleto that I predicted and planned for her. _Lost in his memories, he could almost hear her singing and he thought his heart would break. _She has the voice of an angel,_ he marveled, as if realizing this for the first time. _Even with only a few months' training, it surpasses even Cat's voice, and I did not think that was possible._ Afterwards, watching Rafe embrace her, seeing her smile up at him, Erik felt pangs of jealousy. Remembering her rejection, he told himself again, s_he means nothing … nothing. Now I can move on with my life._

Suddenly came the unbidden picture of his future … bleak, lonely, alone. _It's just as well,_ he reminded himself. _She would never willingly choose me. She made that abundantly clear in Savannah – she was horrified at the thought of sharing my home. She could not fathom letting the world see that ... _Shaking his head to clear the unwanted thoughts, he stopped at RS&A instead of going directly home. He had a few things to wrap up before he could return to the Mayan Riviera for the summer.

* * *

The Chamberlains were staying at Charleston Place. Mrs. Chamberlain had planned a private dinner party in their suite and the six of them enjoyed a celebrating together. Rafe was pleasantly surprised by Christine's attention, but did not question it too closely. Meg was heartsick, torn between sympathy for her friend, disgust at Christine's careless using of Rafe, and jealous of the attention Rafe was giving Christine. By the end of the evening, she had a headache and was regretting her decision to join them.

Christine, Meghan, and Rafe flew to the Mayan Riviera the next day.

* * *

Meghan was staying as Christine's guest at the Resort. Christine quickly fell back into the routine of cleaning guest rooms by day, partying with the rest of the summer staff by night. They had been back nearly two weeks before she ran into Erik.

She, Rafe, and Meghan were returning to their rooms. Waiting for the elevator, Rafe pulled her close and whispered leeringly into her ear. Eyes dancing with laughter, Christine looked up and found herself staring at Erik. Giving her a knowing smirk, he turned and walked away.

The laughter died as she pulled free from Rafe, cheeks flaming with embarrassment from the insulting look Erik had given her. Speaking softly, she told Rafe and Meghan to go on ahead; she would be up shortly. Moving quietly, she went to the stairway that led to Erik's suite. As she walked up the stairs, she was grateful that she was wearing a short skirt. Avoiding the security cameras, she removed her panties and folded them into her pocketbook. She straightened her skirt, took a deep breath, and using her staff passkey, opened the door to Erik's suite.

He stared at her, unbelievingly, as she walked into his suite. Finding his voice, he finally said, "I could have you fired for improper use of your key."

"I know that. And it doesn't matter to me. I had to come to see you … I had to thank you personally."

Erik smirked at this. "And what, exactly, are you thanking me for?" he inquired.

"For showing me my true nature. For revealing to me my true calling. For giving me the freedom to be myself." she answered as she came towards him.

Erik's smirk deepened. "Ah, yes," he replied. "You were a great success at Spoleto. But then …" his voice broke off as she stopped just short of him and turned. She dropped her pocketbook as she turned and, not bothering to stoop, bent over to pick it up.

Erik's reaction was as sudden and as profound as she had anticipated. Turning back to him with a knowing smile, she reached down and unzipped his trousers. Erik stood there stupefied, his normally agile brain stunned by the sudden turn of events.

Christine lovingly caressed him. Erik rested his hand against his desk for support, as he stared at her. He wanted to sit down, to pull her down on top of him, and let her sheath him completely, but he realized that she was not going to allow that to happen.

He felt his excitement increase and he grew harder still. Hardly breaking her stride, Christine knelt on the floor in front of him. His orgasm was fast and furious, and once it was over, Christine stood up. Reaching for a tissue from her pocket, she daintily wiped her mouth and turned to leave. At the door, she stopped and looked back at Erik.

"My debt to you is now paid. Thank you, Sir, for … everything."

* * *

Erik did not know how long he stood there, staring at the door. He could not wrap his brain around what had just happened. One the one hand, he realized uneasily that Christine's behavior was disconcertingly out of character for her, but on the other, it confirmed his belief that she was just another woman, whoring around.

Walking over to his piano, he glanced at the music he had been writing. A continuation of the opera he began the previous fall, it mirrored his experience with Christine … sweeping highs, crashing lows. With a roar of disgust, he swept the music to the floor and stomped off to take a shower. _She means nothing!_ he assured himself. _But, it certainly won't … hurt … anything for me to have a plaything for the rest of the summer_.

With a cunning smile, he formulated his plan, and after a few well-placed telephone calls, he sat down at his piano. _She thinks to play with me?_ he asked himself quietly, _well, she will certainly find out that even here I control her life._

* * *

Christine was relieved to see Meghan was chatting online when she returned to the room. She quickly got ready for bed and said goodnight. Christine was asleep before Meghan could question her about her whereabouts that evening. For the first time since the aborted weekend in Savannah, her dreams were of a dark, difficult man.

* * *

The next week passed uneventfully. Christine, Meghan, and Rafe spent every evening together. Meghan was offered a position as a maid, and so moved out of Christine's room to her own. Christine was relieved by that; she had been too long without a roommate, and to have one in such close quarters was tiresome. There was a subtle shift in the relationships, though, and Christine realized one day, with surprise, that Meghan and Rafe seemed to be on friendlier terms than before. She didn't have long to muse about that, however, as she was called into Senora Guerriero's office.

"Christine, I wanted to talk to you about your assignment here," she began. "Certain … things … have come to our attention."

Horrified, Christine stared at the older woman. "I'm sorry … I'm afraid … I don't understand," she stuttered.

Senora Guerriero looked at her curiously. "This isn't a reprimand, Christine. Merely a reassignment."

"A reassignment?" Christine repeated stupidly.

"Yes, my dear. There have been rumors afloat about your heretofore hidden talents."

Christine could not help the blush that stained her cheeks as the blood rushed to her head. _Oh, dear God, let me die now, _she prayed.

"There's really no need to be so humble, or embarrassed, Christine. The rumors have been quite flattering."

Christine continued to stare dumbly.

"So, effective immediately, you will no longer be in the Housekeeping Department. We are moving you to one of the nightclubs," she stopped and consulted her notes, then continued "… to the Piano Bar, actually."


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N Sorry for the delay ... RL keeps messing with me!_

_It hardly seems enough, but my heartfelt thanks to my wonderful friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour._

* * *

Christine left Senora Guerriero's office in a daze. _It can't be!_ she thought despairingly. W_hy on earth would Erik do this to me?_ She blushed as she thought of their last … encounter, and knew with a sinking feeling that he was going to exact revenge. _It's fine when he uses me,_ she thought with a sneer, _but he certainly does not like to be played with, does he? _Firming her shoulders, Christine mentally prepared herself to meet his challenge.

She decided to followed Senora Guerriero's advice, and stopped in one of the hotel's boutiques on her way back to her room. Feeling reckless, she asked the sales associate for assistance. "I am going to be singing at the Piano Bar for the rest of the summer, and I need some knock-'em-dead ensembles," she said.

The sales associate smiled with delight. "Oh, I think we have exactly what you are looking for!" She ushered Christine to a fitting room. "Wait here, please. I will be back shortly."

Christine stripped to her bra and panties and was ready when the other woman brought in several pieces for her to try on. Looking at the selection of tops … halters, strapless, low-back … Christine tossed her bra onto the chair with the rest of her clothes.

After what seemed like an eternity, Christine had a wardrobe of black, red, and ivory separates that could be mixed and matched so that she would not wear the same outfit twice. Trying on the ivory palazzo pants, she realized that she also needed to purchase thong underwear; she was not going to ruin the effect of the outfit with panty lines! She ended up with floor-length skirts in black and ivory, palazzo pants in all three colors, black leather pants, and two short black skirts.

Christine found a black halter top that tied at the nape of the neck, and a sudden vision of Erik unnerved her momentarily. Setting her teeth, she tried on several other halter tops. Although she preferred a high-neck style, she also purchased some that were daringly low cut. _I'm going to have to buy double-stick tape! _she thought ruefully. All of the tops were embellished with embroidery, sequins, and beads.

The boutique carried an exclusive line of lingerie, and Christine splurged. Best of all, she not only was entitled to an employee discount but the clothes would be charged against her paycheck.

* * *

Getting ready for her first performance, Christine chose the black halter top that tied at the nape of the neck and a pair of palazzo pants. After she showered and did her hair, she put on the thong and wiggled; she did not know how long it would take to get used to _that! _ Strapping on black kitten-heeled sandals, she left her room.

Erik was glad the piano was shrouded in darkness; he did not want Christine to see the effect her sudden appearance had on him. Composing himself, he began the scales so that she could do her warmup exercises. That finished, he beckoned to her, and told her the songs he would be playing that night. Nodding, Christine turned away. She could not believe how unsettling it was to be next to him in the darkened bar.

The evening went well. Christine knew the songs; they were some of the ones she and Erik had worked on during her vocal lessons. The patrons were appreciative of the sexy young woman with the sultry yet angelic voice. Exhausted at the end of the evening, Christine was getting ready to leave when she felt his hand on her elbow.

"Christine …"

Eyes accustomed to the dim light allowed him to see the desire wash over her face as she closed her eyes.

"Christine …" he repeated softly. _When did he move so close? His voice sounds like it's coming from inside of my head._

"Erik," she answered, her desire for him written plainly on her face.

Seeing her so easily aroused brought the smirk back. "Come, my dear, we must get you settled for the night. You did well, and you must be exhausted."

Stung, Christine blushed as she realized how easily he had read her mind. _Good job, Christine! He speaks your name, and you're ready to throw yourself in his arms. Never forget – you are only a shabby stand-in for the woman he truly loves._ Straightening, she looked coldly at him. "I am more than capable of returning to my room without any assistance from you," she told him frostily.

Raising a brow, he did not bother to hide his amusement. Taking her arm, he led her to the elevators.

* * *

Christine was confused when Erik got off the elevator at her floor. Turning a questioning look towards him, she started to tell him again that she was more than capable of finding her way to her room.

"I know that, my dear. But, you aren't staying in your room. You're not a maid any longer, and they will need your room for your replacement."

Christine was puzzled but did not argue with him.

"You will get the things you need for tonight. Staff will move the rest of your things tomorrow."

Understanding began to dawn, but Christine needed to hear it. "Where, exactly, am I moving to?"

"To my suite, of course. There is more than enough room for two," Erik replied smugly.

Christine started to shake her head, but recognizing the determined look on his face, acquiesced and gathered the items she needed until the rest of her things were brought to his suite.

* * *

Back in his suite, Erik suggested she take a bath and get ready for bed. "You had a full evening tonight. You will perform Thursday through Sunday nights for the duration of the summer. There's only one show on Thursday and Sunday nights, but Friday and Saturday nights have two. You need to take care of your voice, and you need your rest."

Christine nodded. She did not voice her suspicions, but she knew his concern for her _sleep_ was not the reason she was going to live in his suite. Without thinking, she suddenly blurted out, "Do you take pleasure in tormenting me?"

The atmosphere changed immediately as Erik stopped dead in his tracks, then slowly turned back to her. Christine suddenly found it difficult to breathe – it felt as if all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the air as she gazed into his cold eyes. Long minutes passed before Erik finally replied, "Do you think I waste even a moment's thought on ways to _torment_ you? Take your bath and go to bed, Christine." Raising his hand at her sudden interruption, he continued, "I have no wish to continue this conversation."

As he turned and left the bedroom, Christine suddenly wished there was something close by that she could throw at him. _You arrogant bastard! You have no wish to continue this conversation? Well, if you think I'm going to accept this new situation quietly, you are very much mistaken! _Stomping over to the door, she slammed it shut, taking perverse satisfaction in the noise that rang through the suite. Flipping the lock, she decided a long, hot bubble bath was just what she needed.

* * *

Erik was very aware of her movements, but even so, he jumped when the bedroom door slammed shut. He narrowed his eyes as he heard her flip the lock, then turned back to his laptop. He read the same email several times before giving up with a disgusted grunt. Hoping to be lulled to a quieter mood, he finally decided to return to the Piano Bar where he could take out his frustration on his music without disturbing her.

In her bath, Christine did not realize he had left their suite. She luxuriated in her bath until the bubbles were gone and the water had grown cold. Rising, she patted herself dry with one of the luxurious towels reserved for the resort's best suites, then humming quietly, slipped into a silk nightgown before sliding into bed.

She tossed and turned relentlessly, finally falling into a fitful sleep shortly before dawn.

Erik returned to the suite, exhausted from a lack of sleep and his efforts to forget the woman who was sleeping in his bed. Throwing himself down onto the sofa, he too fell into a fitful slumber.

* * *

Erik's tortured screaming woke Christine up. Sitting up quickly, she rushed into the living room, not bothering with her robe. Seeing his anguished thrashing twisted her heart, and she grasped his shoulders and spoke quietly but firmly. "Erik, Erik! Wake up, Erik … it's just a dream." He quieted somewhat at this, and wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him to her and began to rock gently back and forth. Caressing him, she gently removed his mask and continued to murmur softly until his sobs subsided.

Calm now, he began to nuzzle her neck, and Christine moved her head to provide him better access to it. He nibbled her ear, then dropped feathery kisses along her jawline. Reaching her mouth, he stopped and looked at her.

Tears shone in her eyes, but she could not deny her need. Watching her carefully, he saw her resigned acceptance. Feeling suddenly triumphant, he stood up next to her. Picking her up, he swung her into his arms and carried her back to the bed. Setting her down gently, he laid down beside her and resumed his exploration of her body.

Afterwards, he curled himself around her. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he murmured, "Rest well, Christine." She lay silently on her side, tears coursing down her cheeks. _He treats me like a whore – like his plaything – and I can deny him nothing. Worse, I love him still. Even knowing he will never love me in return._

* * *

"Thank you, Senora Guerriero, for agreeing to see me on such short notice."

"Any time, Christine. Now, what can I do for you today?"

"I'm here about staff housing," she began. At the other woman's puzzled look, she continued, "I understand that my former room will be needed by my replacement, but …"

"Your former room?"

Blushing, Christine replied, "Well, I was told that I needed to vacate my room, as it would be needed by the woman hired to be my replacement."

The older woman began to understand, but asked Christine, "Where do you think we would put you, Christine?"

Christine's flush deepened as she finally told her, "I've been sharing Mr. Leboeuf's suite. And, I'm not complaining! But, I have so many "girlie" things that clutter his space, and I make so much noise … surely it would be better for me to have a room of my own, no matter how small."

Smiling, Senora Guerriero hastened to assure Christine that they could find her accommodations for the remainder of the summer. "Where are your things now?"

"Well, some of them are in Mr. Leboeuf's suite. I was told housekeeping staff would bring the remainder to his suite sometime today."

Lifting the phone, Senora Guerriero placed a few telephone calls. Christine was mortified as she imagined what the other woman must be thinking. Unfortunately, the calls were placed in Spanish, and Christine had no idea what was being said. To her relief, her former supervisor finally addressed her. "Come with me, Christine. We have a couple of staff rooms available. I will show them to you, and you may decide which would better suit your needs. Then, the housekeeping staff will move you in."

"Thank you so much, Senora Guerriero. I really appreciate this!"

"Nonsense, my dear. The Spoleto Festival is world-renowned, and you are now one of our featured performers. Your happiness is very important to the resort."

* * *

Christine was shown a small room tucked away by itself. She could not help but frown, and turning to the other woman asked, "You said there were a couple of choices?"

"Yes. I didn't know how important your privacy is to you. But, let me show you the other choice, and then you can decide."

A few minutes later, they were on the floor that housed Erik's suite. With dawning horror, Christine realized that if she did not take the small little room hidden away, she would have Erik as her neighbor. The deciding factor was the bathroom. In the little room, she would have to go to the communal bathroom which was quite a walk from her room. In the suite, she would have a luxurious bathroom to herself.

"I'd like to have this suite, Senora Guerriero, if you're sure that's not a problem," she finally said, still not comfortable with being treated like a valued contributor, rather than a maid.

"Of course, my dear. I will have housekeeping move your things in this afternoon. Perhaps you would like to take your lunch by the pool. Oh, and before I forget, here is your keycard."

Returning to the elevators, Christine thanked her again.

Sitting by the pool, Christine hardly tasted her lunch. She told herself she wasn't worried about Erik's reaction, but she knew that to be a lie.

A short while later, she was returning to her new suite. Lost in thought, she did not realize the door to Erik's suite was open. She was startled by a hand closing around her arm, then hauling her roughly into his suite. Pulling her arm from his grasp, she jumped as he slammed the door closed.

"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"I could ask the same thing of you, my dear," he spat back.

"Look, you won. I'm going to sing in your damned piano bar four nights a week for the rest of the summer. But, that does not mean that I am going to quietly agree to warm your bed while we're here."

"Oh really?" he sneered. "I don't remember hearing any complaints about that earlier today."

"Earlier today should never have happened, Erik. But, I'm glad it did, because it gave me the resolve I needed to confront Senora Guerriero about my new living quarters. Imagine my shock when she knew nothing about the mandatory move!"

Erik had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself at being caught in his lie. He recovered quickly, though. "You hate me so much that you went and complained about sharing my suite?" he asked her softly.

Christine's heart turned. _I didn't mean to hurt him, _she reminded herself. _But, he has no right to use me. If my standing up for myself hurts him, well …I can't help that._

Lowering her eyes, she muttered, "I don't hate you, Erik. But, I'm tired. I'm tired of your manipulations; I'm tired of the game-playing."

He quirked a brow as he asked, "But you contribute to neither?"

Christine cursed silently as she felt the flush warm her face. "What do you want from me, Erik?" she finally asked tiredly.

"Honesty would be a good start."

"Honesty! Honesty? Oh, that's rich, coming from you!"

"I have never lied to you, Christine."

"Not even by omission?"

"I'm sorry. I must have missed the 'True Confessions' night. If there's something that you want to know, you need to ask me directly."

Worrying her bottom lip, Christine debated with herself. _How do I bring Cat up? And the accident … And yet, if I don't we have no chance for a future together. Ha! As if he wants a future with me! …_

Erik watched the emotions dance across her face, and knew there would be no questions that day. Reaching past her, he opened the door and motioned her through it. "If you ever decide that whatever it was that we shared was important enough to fight for, you know where to find me," he said quietly.

Eyes downcast, Christine walked out of his suite.


	27. Chapter 27

_**A/N Many, many thanks to my magnificent friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour. **_

_**Thank you also to you, the reader. I truly appreciate the time you take to read and review, not to mention all of the encouraging emails I receive when an update is slow in coming.**_

* * *

Christine wandered around her suite, before finally plopping down on the sofa. Deciding it was too quiet, she turned the television on, then flicked it back off – not even the Spanish soap operas could amuse her today. Jumping up, she straightened the throw pillows on the sofa before wandering into the bedroom. There was nothing out of place – her belongings had not been brought in yet – and nothing to do. Finally, she opened the drapes, and was thrilled to discover French doors which led to a balcony.

Walking out onto the balcony, she leaned forward on the railing and looked down at the pool several stories beneath her. It was quite busy this afternoon, and she lost track of time as she stood there, hypnotized by the activity. So engrossed was she that she jumped when a male voice broke the silence behind her. "Pardon me, _senorita_, but I have your things." Turning around, she saw French doors along the back of the balcony and a hammock in each corner. Delighted with the thought of whiling the afternoon away lazing in the hammock, her heart sank as she realized that she shared her balcony with her neighbor.

Thanking the bellhop, she wondered if it was appropriate to tip a co-worker. Finally deciding that kindness was always appreciated, she tipped him handsomely. "_Gracias, Senorita_. You may call me any time you need to move," he said with a grin.

_Well, I guess I should unpack now, _she thought reluctantly as she moved to her suitcases stacked next to the dresser. _Yes, unpacking, getting settled in, this would be a good thing,_ she told herself firmly. But the lure of the hammock proved to be too strong, and grabbing her cell phone, she went back onto the balcony.

She went through her stored numbers, trying to decide who to call. _Rafe? No, he's working. Meg, too. Erik? Now, that would be hilarious! Jacqueline. Of course! I will call Jacqueline – she will reassure me that I've made the right decision …_

* * *

Having decided to talk to Jacqueline, Christine was impatient to do so, and became very frustrated as her calls kept being forwarded to voice mail. _Darn it, Jacqueline, where are you? I need to talk to you …_ The rumbling of her stomach reminded her that she needed to eat a light supper before going on stage at the Piano Bar, and so she reluctantly climbed off of the hammock.

She was one of the few people in the staff dining room, and she took her soup and salad to a table in a far corner. Not that she expected to run into anyone she knew; Meg and Rafe would still be working, and _he_ would never deign to visit such a common dining room.

A short while later, she rummaged through the evening clothes she had purchased at the resort's boutique before settling on her long black skirt and beaded black camisole. She secured her hair so that it cascaded in ringlets from a high ponytail. She added simple diamond earrings and a diamond pendant and decided that she looked "good enough". Slipping her feet into her kitten-heeled strappy sandals, she picked up her pocketbook and keycard, and left her suite.

Only to be joined by Erik in the hallway as she waited for the elevator.

She pretended that she didn't notice him, but she was acutely aware of his eyes traveling up and down her body. Gritting her teeth, she continued to ignore him as they waited silently and fled into the car as soon as the doors opened, forgetting that she was not fleeing him at all. He continued to stare at her, but she refused to acknowledge him. Again, she had the sensation of being unable to breathe, as if his very presence sucked all of the oxygen out of the air.

They finally reached the ground floor, and to her dismay, Christine's heel caught on the door's track. She would have fallen flat on her face had Erik not been paying attention. As it was, she felt his hands on her waist, keeping her upright. Heat shot through her at his touch, and she flushed a deep crimson as she fought the urge to lean into his embrace. "Why so embarrassed, my dear? Surely you didn't think I'd let you fall …" he murmured into her ear.

Yanking herself away from him, she turned to glare at him. "The thought of falling flat on my face is embarrassing. Thank you so much for preventing that," she added through clenched teeth.

He smirked at that. "Not the most graceful 'thank you' I've ever received, but it will do. For now."

Frowning at him, she turned and began to walk towards the Piano Bar. _Keep walking, Christine, and for god's sake, don't trip and fall! Don't give him the satisfaction of "saving" you twice in one day._

Christine blamed the journey in the elevator, her nearly falling, and Erik's rescue on the fact that she was tantalizingly aware of his presence that night. An accomplished pianist, he had no need to look at either his music or his hands as they traveled across the keys. Which meant that he was free to stare at her. Which he did. The entire night. Until she didn't know if she wanted to scream, cry, or merely throw herself into his arms, begging for mercy.

When her second performance of the evening was over, she fled from the Piano Bar, anxious for the sanctuary of her suite. _Please, Jacqueline, answer your phone tonight. I am losing my mind …_

* * *

Erik watched Christine flee from the Piano Bar, leaving almost before the last bars of her final song. He was torn between amusement and annoyance, and he fleetingly wondered if she would be able to make it back to her suite without tripping. His mood tanked, though, as he recalled that she would be returning to _her_ suite – he still could not believe she had gone to Senora Guerriero to complain about being moved to his suite. _She may not _hate_ me, but she surely despises me,_ he thought in despair. _What did I do to deserve to be treated like I'm dirt beneath her feet?_

The patrons who remained after Christine's show were amazed by the sounds coming from the piano. First, the light, bright tune that she ended her show with. Then confusion, anger, despair as unbeknownst to Erik, his music was trumpeting his troubled thoughts for all to hear. Customers and staff were spellbound by the story his music was telling, until the women were fighting tears and the men were clearing their throats against the emotions which were welling up in empathy. Finally, the song ended, and the room held its collective breath before sighing in relief.

* * *

Christine returned to her suite, turning on lights as she walked through it. Reaching the bathroom, she hurriedly stripped before putting on the fluffy white robe so thoughtfully provided by the Resort. As badly as she wanted to relax in the tub, she desperately needed to speak to Jacqueline. Grabbing a pen, notebook, and her cell phone, she sat down on the sofa and placed the call. Much to her relief, Jacqueline answered on the second ring.

"Jacqueline, it's Christine. Is this a bad time? I really need to talk to you."

"Not at all, Christine. What's up?"

"Well, I took your advice, and ended things with Erik."

"Wait a minute, Christine. When did I advise you to end things with Erik?"

"Well, you didn't say so in so many words, but … I understood what you meant. Why else would you have sent those printouts over to me, by courier no less? Why else would you insist on meeting me at the Battery, safe from anyone who may wish to overhear?"

Jacqueline sighed. "Christine, you jump to too many conclusions. I wanted you to be aware of Erik's past so that you could talk to him about it. I wanted you to be aware that there was a history between him and the woman he was seen escorting that night in London. I wanted to be sure that you knew that by accepting Erik, you were accepting a flesh-and-blood man, one with many faults, not 'just' your music teacher and your mentor at work."

"Well, why didn't you tell me that?" Christine asked crossly. "You are as bad as he is, playing games with my life!"

"If you believe that of me, why did you call me tonight? If you believe that of him, why are you still in his life?"

"Well, I'm not really in his life any more."

"Oh? You quit your job at the Mayan Riviera Resort? And your internship at RS&A?"

"Well … no," she admitted quietly.

"Then how are you not in his life?"

"Well, I'm not in his bed. I'm not living with him. We're not seeing each other on a social basis." Conveniently forgetting the events of the past twenty-four hours, she added, "And we're really not speaking to each other, outside of what is absolutely necessary on the job."

Jacqueline did not respond.

"OK, then … what do you think I should do?"

"As I have told you, it is extremely difficult to walk away from one's soul mate. But it sounds to me that you've made your decision, and you are going to build your life without Erik."

"But, I don't _want _to," she admitted quietly. "I just don't know how to fix this. Or if it even can be fixed. He asked me to live with him when – if – we move to Savannah, Jacqueline."

"Wait. Tell me more about that. Why would you move to Savannah? And when was this discussed?"

"He and I went to Savannah the weekend after we spent the weekend at his house. We went to make a pitch to the developer of a new subdivision there. We went down on Friday, and looked at some properties for RS&A employees to live in for the duration of the project, if RS&A was awarded the contract. We found a fabulous house, and Erik decided to buy it for himself. He then told me that he'd like me to live with him."

"And you said …"

"No! of course."

"Oh?"

"Oh, come on! How could I, an intern, explain that I was living with my boss? Everything I would create would be subjected to intense scrutiny, to see if favoritism played a part. My reputation as a professional architect would be ruined before I am even licensed."

"And that is so important to you?"

"Look, I'm good. I'm damned good, and yes, I want people to accept my work on its merits, not because I happen to be sleeping with the boss!"

"What would it do to your professional reputation if you were to marry him, then?"

"What?"

"What would it do to your professional reputation if you were to marry him?" she repeated patiently.

"As if that would ever happen! You saw the woman he loved – I cannot compete with her."

"It would be rather pointless to compete with yourself, my dear."

"Excuse me?"

"You must have figured this out by now, Christine! I cannot believe how blind the two of you are! Both madly in love with the other, neither one realizing it's mutual …"

"Yeah, right. He's so in love with me that he's willing to throw my professional reputation aside for his convenience. He's so in love with me that he ran off, at the spur of the moment, to escort one of his most famous former students to a gala in London. He's so in love with me that he didn't speak to me again until yesterday, when he got me reassigned to sing in his damned Piano Bar and tricked me into moving into his suite."

Jacqueline laughed. "I'm sorry, Christine, I should not laugh at you. Yes, he loves you so much that he doesn't see why your personal life would interfere with your professional one. He loves you so much that he trusted you to understand, to wait for an explanation before you washed your hands of him when he responded to a friend's plea for help." At Christine's sound of disbelief, she interrupted. "Let me finish, please! He's so in love with you that he respected your wish to be left alone, until he couldn't stand it any longer. He's so in love with you that he risked your ire to get you out from washing stranger's bathrooms and back in the spotlight, where others could be transported by your beautiful voice."

"What is with it and y'all's preoccupation with my employment as a maid? It's an honest job!"

"True, it is. But, Christine, you are capable of so much more. And he loves you so much that he tricked you into moving into his suite, hoping that you would remember something of the good times you shared together … praying that you would forgive him for whatever transgressions he had committed against you."

"Oh God," the younger woman wept. "Really? Does he really love me? Even after …"

"Do you still love him? Even after everything?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I do love him. And I miss him so damned much."

"Then get off the phone with me, and go to him. Talk to him, Christine. Ask him the questions you need answered. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Listen to your heart, Christine. And never forget. He needs you as badly as you need him."

* * *

Picking up the hotel phone, she dialed the extension to his suite. Tears streamed down her face as she heard it ring, unanswered. Deciding to wait a little while before trying again, she went out onto the balcony wondering if Jacqueline was right, and this mess could be straightened out.

Struggling with his keycard, Erik cursed as the phone stopped ringing just as he opened the door. He checked to see if anyone had left a message before going over to his laptop and turning it on. His ears picked up the strange sound; it sounded like it came from the window. Opening the drapes, he was amazed to see the French doors leading to a balcony. Opening the door, he walked out onto the balcony before he realized she was there.

Seeing her, his breath caught in his throat. Hearing him, she froze. Neither one moved, each holding their breath, waiting for a clue from the other. The silence stretched between them. After several long moments, Erik turned and went back into his suite. Hearing the door's soft click as it closed, seeing the loss of light which signaled the drawing of the drapes, Christine felt her heart break. Blinded by her tears, she berated herself for not acknowledging him. _Jacqueline's right,_ she thought to herself. _I don't deserve him._

Back inside his suite, Erik paced restlessly as he argued with himself. _She doesn't love you, Erik … never forget that. But, she can't deny me her body. I could walk out on that balcony right now, put my arms around her, whisper in her ear, _his body hardened in anticipation as he began to open the drapes. _Don't be a fool! Is that all you want? Her body to warm your bed? You can get that from a simpler woman than Christine! _Straightening his shoulders, he released the drapes and turned away.


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N Sorry for the delay, but RL keeps rearing its ugly head._

_I cannot thank my friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour enough for their continuing support and encouragement.._

* * *

Through the haze of her sorrow, Christine slowly became aware of voices and her eyes scanned the landscape below her balcony until she found the source. _Oh it's the part-timers, coming back from one of their beach parties. I should be with them,_ she thought bitterly. _He's ruined my entire summer, and why? Because I bruised his ego? He doesn't give a damn that he's broken my heart. Well, I may have to sing in his damned piano bar four nights a week, but the rest of my time is my own … and I'm going to salvage what I can of the time's that left._ Squaring her shoulders, she turned to her left, neatly ignoring _his_ side of the balcony and without another glance at his suite, went inside.

She unpacked the rest of her clothes, and once she settled her sundries in the spacious bathroom, decided to take advantage of the Jacuzzi. She hissed as she entered the hot water, but settled in and turned on the jets. Between the heat and the spray, the bath worked its wonder on her, and she emerged relaxed enough to fall into bed.

* * *

Although he kept telling himself he could not hear her, Erik was achingly aware of Christine's movements. He knew when she left the balcony, and it didn't take a large stretch of the imagination to know she would take advantage of the Jacuzzi in her bathroom. He grinned as he remembered her obvious pleasure in the hot tub, then frowned as he just as quickly reminded himself that she meant nothing to him.

Determined to move on with his life, as she had obviously moved on with hers, Erik sat down at his piano and began to play.

* * *

Christine moved and moaned in her sleep as she felt his music wrap itself around her. She could feel his breath on her neck, his hands as they slid down her body, searching for her very female heat. She gasped.

And woke up, flushed and out of breath. _Good God, what is wrong with me? I am losing my mind,_ she thought, even as her arms reached for him, encountering only the vast emptiness of her bed. She remembered, then, and her heart ached with yearning. She rose from the bed and went into the bathroom. She stared with disbelief at her reflection, and thought bitterly that it was just as well he wasn't there – she would have scared him to death. Washing her face briskly, she paused to get a bottle of cold water from the small refrigerator in her suite, then returned to her bed. _It's wonderful that I have this huge bed to myself,_ she thought as she laid down diagonally across its expanse. And she refused to acknowledge the tears as they silently soaked her pillow.

* * *

Fresh from her shower, Christine sat down to do her make up before she finished drying her hair, and was shocked again at how bad she looked. _Good thing the Piano Bar is dark_ she thought to herself ruefully, _otherwise, I'd be scaring the patrons to death tonight._ She finally decided to lay down with a cold cloth across her eyes, hoping that the puffiness would go down enough that she could go the staff dining room for lunch and not give anyone cause for alarm.

That worked, and Christine ate lunch, then went out to the pool to relax before getting ready for work. _I could get used to this_, she thought to herself, _I could be a regular lady of leisure._ She lazily watched the young couples, obviously on vacation, and her heart contracted suddenly. _Will that ever be me?_ she wondered. Jacqueline's voice interrupted her thoughts, but shaking her head suddenly, she refused to listen.

* * *

Erik's eyes feasted on Christine as she wooed the crowd with her voice. She was in red and black tonight, and his throat tightened when he saw the deep _v_ of her sequined halter. Her leather pants fit like a glove, and he smirked at the thought of working them past her hips, then slowly down her legs … He jerked suddenly, and nearly missed a note. Christine picked up on the near miss, and slanted a quick, questioning look at him before she realized what she was doing. Her voice thickened, and she finished the song huskily. The patrons all shifted uncomfortably as the sexual tension between the man and woman on stage was unmistakable. Erik paused before starting the intro to her final set, and Christine nearly sank to the floor with relief when a server quietly brought water to her. Pulling herself together, she gave a quick nod to Erik, then plunged into her song.

She had less than an hour between acts, and she fled to the staff dining room to get something to ground her before returning to the stage. She had just made a cup of tea when Erik appeared, angrier than she could remember seeing him.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he hissed at her.

"Making a cup of tea," she answered matter of factly.

"No, not this ... not now. What do you think you're doing – dressed like that, Christine? You look like there's a fire sale … and you're the merchandise."

"Am I not?" she questioned quietly.

Rage, hot and blinding, flooded through him, and Christine instinctively took a step back from him. He tamped it down, then said through gritted teeth, "I suggest you reconsider your outfit for the remainder of the evening Christine. Otherwise, you will be the only one responsible for whatever may happen once the guests leave."

"Oh, right," she sneered. "Like you don't have any responsibility for your actions. Like you don't have any control over your …" she stopped as he suddenly gripped her arm.

"If you do not change your clothing," he said in a quiet voice as he released her arm, "then I will know you intend to have me tonight." And he left as quietly as he came.

It was all she could do not to hurl the teacup at his retreating back. Sitting down, she seethed as she drank her tea and thought about his ultimatum. _How dare he?_ she raged to herself. _Who the hell does he think he is, telling me how to dress. And judging me – that's rich! And then, threaten me, yet blame me all the while._ She was so engrossed in her self-righteous anger that she was startled when a server came to tell her she had only five minutes before her next act. _Guess that settles it, then. I don't have time to go up to my suite and change._ A flurry of anticipation skirted through her, before being chased by the returning rage. _As if he has the right to tell me what to wear! And, if he touches me tonight, I'll … I'll … Well, I just won't let him._ And with a defiant toss of her head, she made her way back to the Piano Bar.

* * *

Erik's eyes glittered, and he raised one brow in acknowledgment of her acceptance of his challenge, but Christine steadfastly ignored him. Her stomach clenched as she went through the songs, but she was determined to see things through to the undeniably bitter end. Although both were achingly aware of the other, their music did not suffer. If anything, it made it more intense.

She toyed briefly with the idea of fleeing once her last set was over; he, after all, would remain and play for awhile. _I could go down to the beach – join my former coworkers at the bonfire,_ she thought idly. _Or I could just go back to my suite._ But she did neither, contenting herself with sitting at the end of the bar, watching him surreptitiously as he played.

_What is she thinking?_ he wondered as his hands skated over the board, caressing the keys as he coaxed the music from them. _Has she conceded defeat?_ His eyes narrowed at this, and he told himself to calm down. _Does she refuse to accept any responsibility for her actions? Is she trying to force my hand, _he smirked a bit at that, _knowing that she will enjoy every minute of it, yet remain guilt-free, the hapless, helpless victim once more?_ His set ended, he acknowledged the applause from the patrons before rising and walking over to where she sat.

Her stomach tightened as she watched his approach, and her body tingled with well-known awareness. _Get hold of yourself, Christine!_ she admonished herself silently. _He's merely walking towards you. Good Lord, girl, if watching him walk reduces you to mindlessness, how are you going to see this through?_ Her resolve returned as he reached for her, and she slid gracefully off the barstool, just beyond his grasp. With a final smile for the bartender, Christine turned and led the way out of the Piano Bar.

He watched her as he silently followed her. They reached the elevator, and she pressed the call button. Their awareness of each other was a tangible, living thing which shimmered in the air between them, and Christine fought to control herself as she struggled to breathe calmly. If he was aware of her silent struggle, he did not betray that; her awareness of him heightened in the face of his continued silence.

The elevator finally arrived, and the door slid open with a gentle hiss. She swallowed suddenly, then forced herself to enter the car. She pressed the number for their floor, then turned and watched him enter behind her. The door slid shut; the car shuddered slightly, then began its gentle journey upwards.

Erik knew Christine too well; she could not fool him. She was feeling many things, but she was not nervous. He began to allow himself the slight hope that she had rethought her stance. _Come back to my bed, Christine, and everything else will work itself out._ She startled suddenly, and stared at him. He flushed slightly, wondering if she had read his thoughts. _Or perhaps I thought out loud,_ he mused as she continued to stare at him. Finally, the car stopped and rang the bell as it reached their floor. Again, Christine left the elevator first, with Erik directly behind her.

She forced herself to walk steadily towards her suite, knowing that she had to pass his suite first. As they reached his door, Erik's hand shot out and curled around her arm, gently but firmly, stopping her. She turned and looked directly at him once again.

He was slightly uncomfortable, as the first thoughts that this may not go quite as he had planned entered his mind. He quirked a brow at her, and could not control the smirk as he reminded her of his promise in the staff dining room.

"Erik," she said quietly, "I don't think so. Please let go of my arm; I wish to return to my suite. Alone."

"I told you, my dear, exactly what you could expect if you refused to change your outfit."

She shook her head at him and sighed. "You can't tell me what to wear, Erik, and my clothing is not responsible for your behavior. I will not wear these leather pants again, because I truly did not realize the message they sent. Thank you for pointing that out to me." She continued to look at him, waiting. "Erik, let go of me," she repeated, "please don't ruin what we've shared by treating me like something you've bought."

"You've accused me of that often enough."

"I have, and I was wrong to do that. You never treated me like a whore," she blushed, suddenly remembering her behavior that night in his suite which precipitated her promotion from maid to soloist, "even when I behaved badly. Please, let go of my arm."

He wavered, torn between his frustration, his desire, and his love.

"You told me to come back when I realized that what we had is worth fighting for. If I spend the night with you tonight, Erik, all we ever had will be reduced to just sex. There will be nothing left that is worth fighting for."

Still not speaking, he slid his hand down her arm, and noticed with satisfaction her eyes following his hand and the slight trembling his touch induced. Reaching her hand, he stopped, and waited for her eyes to meet his. She swallowed again, wondering with a sick dread in the pit of her stomach if she had gambled and lost. Finally taking a deep breath, she brought her eyes up and looked directly into his. He could see doubt, fear, and desire skip across her face as she waited for his next move. Her stomach tightened in anticipation, and she was nearly ready to grab his keycard from him and swipe it through to open the door. Triumph flashed through his eyes, and her world tilted. Before she knew what was happening, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.

"Good night, Christine. Rest well," he said as he released her hand. She stood there stupidly for a moment, her brain trying to wrap itself around this sudden change. Sighing deeply, he took her arm and led her to her door. Taking her keycard from her pocketbook, he swiped it and opened the unlocked door. He led her inside, then pressing a kiss to her forehead, he whispered his good night once again. Christine was still standing there when her door closed behind him.


	29. Chapter 29

**_A/N Heartfelt thanks to my wonderful friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour, for everything you do. Thank you!_**

* * *

She was not certain how long she stood just inside the door to her suite, trying to make sense of all that had happened. On some level, she was aware that she had won, but the thrill was tempered with a great sense of loneliness. Then came disappointment, which brought on a sense of shame as she admitted that part of her had wished it was just sex between them – that would certainly be easier to deal with than the emotional swamp she found herself in.

Giving up, Christine threw herself down on her bed and fell into fitful sleep. She tossed and turned all night, and was relieved when she realized the staff dining room would be open for breakfast.

She was surprised to see Meg and Rafe, and quickly asked if she could join them. They readily agreed, and they bombarded her with questions about her new position. The time passed too quickly, and Christine was genuinely sorry when they excused themselves. _I'm going to try__ to get down to the staff bonfires the nights I don't work, _she decided as she returned to her suiteShe couldn't help but wonder, though, what Erik's reaction to _that_ would be.

* * *

The evening's set went well, and Christine breathed a sigh of relief as she left the Piano Bar. Glancing at her watch, she debated about joining the part-timers, but once she was back in her suite, the stress of the past 24 hours caught up with her, and she went to bed.

She was refreshed when she woke up Monday morning and, skipping her shower, dressed in her bikini. Throwing on a coverup, she went down to the staff dining room for a quick breakfast. She had decided to spend the day by the pool, and wanted to find a book, so she made a quick detour to one of the resort's gift shops. Christine scanned the row of romances with a sinking heart. _I _so _don't want to read about soulmates and true love and living happily ever after_, she thought to herself. _Surely they stock other genres …_ _A-ha! A good old-fashioned murder mystery!_ she thought as she spied a book by one of her favorite authors. Seeing two other mysteries nearby, she purchased three books, and some bottled water, then made her way to the pool.

A few diehard sunbathers were already there, but Christine found a chaise in the shade, set apart from the others. Taking off her coverup, she rolled it up to use as a pillow before settling down to read. Glancing up, she thought she saw a movement on one of balconies facing the pool, then shrugged it away as she opened her book.

* * *

Returning to his suite, Erik prowled restlessly. He did not want to go back down to the Piano Bar, nor did he want to walk the beach – both activities which had soothed him in the past. He wanted … he wanted _Christine_.

He had heard about several projects on the Pacific Coast that piqued his interest; if the Savannah project fell through, RS&A could bid on one or more of them. _Perhaps we should do so anyway. Christine is part of the Savannah project … maybe it would be best if I removed myself from it. _

Erik sat down to do some preliminary sketches and was appalled to see he had sketched the Savannah house he had purchased. Throwing the sketchpad down with disgust, he stomped out of his suite.

The bars were closed and the waterfront was quiet, so he walked the shoreline, willing the sound and smell of the waves to soothe his tangled nerves. Finally, at daybreak he was exhausted enough to fall asleep, and he returned to his suite.

He slept fitfully, but was grateful that the nightmare had not returned. Rising, he walked out on the balcony, grimacing as he glanced to the French doors that led to her suite. He was disappointed that the drapes were closed. He walked to the railing, and scanned the beachfront. Movement on the ground caught his eye, and he looked down towards the pool. His gut clenched as he saw her, lounging in her bikini on the chaise and he growled his frustration as he was suddenly reminded of his plan to use her for his enjoyment over the summer. Turning to go back inside, he shook his head. He knew he loved her too much. He could not delude himself that he would use her, then discard her without a second thought at summer's end.

* * *

Returning to her suite after her day by the pool, Christine showered and dressed for dinner. The ringing of the phone stopped her as she was leaving for the staff dining room.

She felt a slight twinge of disappointment at the female voice on the line, but forced a smile as she assured Meg she would be down shortly. She glanced at Erik's door as she passed it, telling herself she was relieved that he wasn't around.

Quite a group had gathered in the staff dining room. The partying began with dinner, then continued as they made their way to the beach. Christine knew most of the part-timers from previous summers. Even though all were friendly enough, she was vaguely aware that she really didn't fit in with them.

* * *

By Thursday Christine thought she would lose her mind. _Thank God I have a show tonight_ she thought to herself as she walked back from lunch. _I have never been so _bored_ in my life._

Erik looked up as she entered the Piano Bar. She flushed under his intense gaze, but never lost her stride. She had dressed in her most modest outfit, yet his desire for her seemed to be as strong as ever, and she was deeply shaken by it.

Clearing his throat, he asked if she was ready for her warm-up exercises. She swallowed hard, then tried to moisten her lips with her tongue, telling herself she was being ridiculous. Erik's eyes followed her tongue; it took all of his self-control to remain seated at the piano, to begin playing the notes.

Tension thrummed between them the entire evening, but neither one lost their stride. Once her set was over, she went to the bar to wait for him to finish playing. Their eyes locked, and Christine felt his music wash over her, priming her for his touch. She could see his hands clearly, and she envied the keys his caresses. _Oh my god, I never should have sat down here, _she thought wildly, _I need to leave. I need to get up now and walk away … _

Perhaps if Erik had allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk, she would have been able to break the spell and walk away. Instead, she watched as he walked to her. Staring at him, she saw her need reflected in his eyes, and was lost.

Accepting his hand, she stood up. With fingers entwined, they walked to the elevator, then waited for the car. Anticipation and need were growing deep within her, until she thought she would die if he did not take her in his arms. And still, he did not. The car arrived, the doors opened, and they walked in, still hand-in-hand. Turning as one, he pressed the button for their floor, and the doors hissed as they closed. The car started with a jerk, then glided smoothly up while the lovers stood in silence. Arriving at their floor, they left the elevator and Erik walked her to her door. Christine stood there, dumbly, as he reached for her pocketbook to retrieve her keycard. Finally, her door was open and he motioned her in as he handed her the keycard. The door closed before she realized that she was alone in her suite.

* * *

They fell into a new, wordless routine. He escorted her to the Piano Bar each evening; she waited for him once her sets were over, he escorted her back to her suite. Her sleep was plagued by dreams of the life they could have together. He slept not at all as he poured all of his longing, love, and passion for the young woman into the music he was composing.

Christine found it excruciating to be with him, performing at the Piano Bar, yet being apart wasn't any better. She spent endless hours replaying conversations in her mind. She came to grudgingly realize that he was right; they needed to either move to the next level, or be done with each other.

She slept poorly, and the strain was evident in her eyes. It took all of his self control, but Erik kept their conversations professional. They discussed their sets at the Piano Bar, and nothing else.

Unable to sleep, and having no one to confide in, Christine started walking on the beach in the early hours of the morning as she struggled with her doubts. She did not call Jacqueline – she knew what the other woman would tell her. _I can't remember the last time I felt so all alone_, she mused as she walked. _Maybe when my parents died …_

Erik watched her as she paced. Even though he knew that the resort security detail was also watching her, he was relieved that she did not wander too far off. His heart ached, and he despaired that she would ever choose to be with him.

Christine gave up reading; she simply couldn't concentrate. Erik was always on her mind. She began a journal, but quickly became disgusted with herself as she filled page after page with her heartache. She turned to her sketchbook, and started drawing up plans for various buildings in the Savannah project.

Which brought on a sharp ache as she remembered the last weekend they had spent in Savannah. She paced in her suite, restlessly, as she argued with herself. _Go to him, Christine, and talk to him. Ask him the questions you need answered. Listen with your heart, and you will know what to do._ She had nearly convinced herself to do so when her fears rushed back to the surface. _He wants everything his way. He only wants me for sex, and he doesn't have guts enough to be honest about it. Oh no, he needs me to make the big statement. He doesn't care about me or my career – it's all about him. What he wants, what he needs … from the first, it's only been about him._ Then she remembered all he had done for her, with her. Memories of their Saturdays in Charleston, the architecture lessons he shared with her, the walks on the beach, her singing lessons.

Their lovemaking. From the first, it wasn't just sex. They were drawn to the other, and came together explosively. _You are soul mates, Christine… he needs you as badly as you need him._

Finally exhausted, she fell into a troubled sleep. And dreamt of him. _They had just given a party, and the last of the guests had left. Erik came to her, radiating pride and love. Taking her into his arms, he kissed her …_ Waking, she turned to him, only to remember that her bed was empty. _Oh Erik, I miss you so badly …_

Christine joined Meg and Rafe for breakfast Monday morning, relieved that the weekend was finally over. Watching their playful banter heightened her awareness of her own loneliness. _Why couldn't I have fallen for Rafe?_ she wondered, not for the first time. _It certainly would have been simpler._

She went down to the pool, but was too restless to stay there. Returning to her suite, she went out to the hammock on the balcony. _This is ridiculous! _she told herself crossly. _I love him, and he must feel something besides lust for me … why are we apart when we want to be together?_ She began to climb down when another thought stopped her. _Okay, so I go to him and tell him I want to fight for whatever it is we have. Then what?_

_I could live with him here, and no one would be the wiser. But, what about when we return to Charleston? What happens if RS&A is awarded the Savannah contract? Do I move into Erik's house? What will happen to my reputation?_

Sighing, she remembered that Erik did not seem to care about her reputation. Saddened, she laid back, realizing that she was no closer to making a decision than before. _I need to talk to Jacqueline. _

She poured out her misery in an email, and sent it off. She paced as she waited for the tone signaling new mail. After what seemed an eternity, Jacqueline replied:

_Christine,_

_Enough of this! If you are going to move on, then do so, and quit sulking about it. If that is truly what you want, I will help you._

_Don't lie to yourself, my dear. You are not the helpless victim here._

_You have a choice. You can choose your soul mate – knowing that the relationship will be a very difficult one. Or you can open yourself up to a relationship with another man. But it's time to make your choice. You are not being fair to either yourself or Erik._

_Think about everything we have discussed. If you need to talk, I'm here for you._

_Love,_

_Jacqueline_

Snapping off her computer, Christine sat staring into space. _Am I sulking? Is this just one long pity party? What choices do I have? Do I love him? Trust him? _

She was hardly aware that she had wandered back onto the balcony.

* * *

Erik was not surprised to hear RS&A was awarded the contract for the Savannah project. Any satisfaction he would have gotten from the news was dampened because he was not free to celebrate with the one person whose vision was responsible.

He continued to work on his opera. He knew it was a direct result of having met Christine – indeed, the music paralleled the ups and downs of their relationship – but he was powerless to abandon the project.

He could not believe how lonely he was; he _ached_ for Christine. Although he had manipulated events and caused her to be assigned to the Piano Bar, he was tormented by her presence. Although they shared the walk to and from the Piano Bar, they rarely spoke, and he missed the easy relationship they had enjoyed during their Saturday tours of Charleston and environs.

_I miss her friendship,_ he realized with a start. _I miss … _everything _about her._

* * *

He walked out onto the balcony. She stared at him with shock, not noticing the cell phone that fell out of her lifeless fingers. Although he had come looking for her, intending to tell her the good news, he was suddenly unsure of himself; unnerved by her reaction.

Her heart turned over at the uncertain look on his face, and without thinking, she began walking towards him. The hurt feelings, the misunderstandings, the fear each of them harbored dissipated as she took the final steps to him. They both spoke at once, before stopping, embarrassed. Apologizing, he told her to go first.

She searched his face, looking for a clue that he would be receptive to what she had to say. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath and spoke.

"Did you start the fire that led to your accident?"


	30. Chapter 30

_**A/N My deepest apologies to the faithful readers who have been wondering if this is yet another 'abandoned' piece of fan fiction. As I have stated before, I have every intention of finishing this story! **_

_**I realize that the "Real Life" card gets overplayed but ... suffice to say, things may now be settling down enough that I can get some serious work done on both DoS and WSS.**_

_**And so, this chapter is dedicated to my readers. Thank you!**_

_**Finally, much appreciation to my betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour, who are no strangers to RL issues themselves!**_

* * *

He started, dumbfounded, and gaped at her. "What … what did you say?"

"I asked you if you …" averting her eyes from his, she gulped then continued; "...were responsible for starting the fire that led to your accident."

He laughed bitterly. "Oh, so that's why you've been so distant – you truly believe I'm a monster. It must have terrified you, thinking how vulnerable you were at your Spoleto debut." "So why are you asking me now?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes. "You obviously believe I did."

Christine flushed. "No, actually Erik, I could not believe you did." He shook his head in bitter disbelief and began to move away. "Wait, please! The reason I've been avoiding you is … I saw you that night in London. I saw you had a beautiful woman on your arm, and I was jealous. I knew I couldn't compete …" voice trailing off, she turned around and stared sightlessly, bracing herself for his final rejection. When she did not hear his door sliding closed, she risked a glance at him.

He was frozen as he tried to marshal his emotions. Relief, disbelief, annoyance, and anger all warred with each other. _Walk inside, Erik, and close the door. Draw the drapes, and pretend she isn't out here. _He was amazed as she to hear the words coming out of his mouth; "You were jealous of … Cat?" he asked incredulously.

"Is that really so hard to believe, Erik? She was your student, she's a famous opera star, she's drop-dead gorgeous, and she was on your arm at a fabulous London gala. What was I supposed to think? I mean, you left me this cryptic note …"

"I was doing a favor for a friend. Kyle was at Cat's debut, and he never once doubted my innocence. Someone may have deliberately set that fire, but it wasn't me. He is trying to get a new act off the ground, and called everyone he knew, begging us to attend his gala. Cat learned that I was going to attend, and she insisted on accompanying me. The two of them," he stopped and shook his head again, "...are determined to prove my innocence, thus the show of public support."

Feeling more ashamed of herself than ever, Christine murmured, "I'm sorry, Erik. I didn't know …"

"No, you didn't. And you jumped to conclusions and made decisions without bothering to come to me." Shaking his head again, he resumed walking to the door. "But, even worse, Christine, is your refusal to be seen in public with me. Cat, who has reasons to shun me, openly embraces me. You, on the other hand …"

"Excuse me? When, exactly, have I refused to be seen in public with you? Who snubbed me at my debut … when it was your idea, no less! But, did you bother to come see me? To give even a small show of support? No – you ran to … Cat. Your wildly successful and beautiful protégé!"

He stared at her in disbelief. "First of all," he began through clenched teeth, "you were insulted when I asked you to share my home with me. Let me finish! _Then_, you left me a note telling me that you were done with your music lessons. And now you're acting like the injured party. Oh, wait. That's right, I forgot. Playing the victim is a role you relish." Turning, he walked back into his suite. Raising his hand to pull the door closed, he moved to the side as she came storming in behind him.

"Just what do you think walking away from me is going to solve?" she demanded angrily. "Is this what you would have done the first time we argued after I moved in with you? Or, is it just that you aren't interested in working this out?"

"We cannot work this out, as you so succinctly put it, until and unless you are willing to be honest with me."

"I am being honest! I don't know what else you want from me."

"The truth, Christine," he said as he closed the door. "All I've ever wanted from you is the courtesy of a direct and truthful answer."

Folding her arms around herself, she said, "All right, I'm ready. What do you want to know?"

"Why did you reject me when I asked you to share my house in Savannah? I know it wasn't because the house wasn't to your liking."

"That's true, Erik. I fell in love with that house, and I couldn't help but imagine …" biting her lip, she turned away from him, suddenly mortified at how much she was revealing.

"Come here, Christine," he said in a deceptively gentle voice. Surprised by the sudden change in his demeanor, she walked back to the door. He quickly rounded on her and pressed her against the glass. "What did you imagine, Christine?" he demanded as he placed his hands on the window on either side of her head.

"Erik, stop. I can't … think. I can't even _breathe_." His masked face swam in her vision as his eyes held hers.

"I'm waiting for your answer, Christine."

"Well, you already think so little of me, you may as well have the final laugh," she said bitterly. "I couldn't help but imagine me living there, as your wife, with your children. I couldn't help but imagine the small bedroom next to ours as a nursery." Trying to steel herself against the rejection she knew was coming, her eyes closed. _I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry,_ she chanted silently to herself as the silence stretched on.

"And you think I would laugh at you for that?" He relaxed slightly and moving one hand to her chin, he gently raised her face to his. "Look at me, Christine. You are the first woman who has ever been to my home. I had your suite furnished and decorated with you in mind. No other woman has ever been in there. The clothes that you found in your closet were purchased for you." Sighing, he released her chin and pulled her into a tighter embrace. "It has always been, in the past, that the woman pushes for more than I am willing to give. This is a new experience for me. I should have realized that you would not understand the importance behind my gestures."

"What are you saying, Erik?"

"You are mine. I do not wish to live without you."

Sudden fury coursed through her. "So … you think you … own me?" she asked, her voice choked with rage. Pushing against him, she tried to break free of his embrace.

"No more than you own me, Christine. Or, should I say, no less." He chuckled suddenly as she slumped back, her anger spent.

"So, now what?"

"It is quite simple. Rather than return to Charleston at the end of the summer, you will move into my house in Savannah," pausing, he waited for her reaction, and laughed at her squeal of surprise.

"We did it? They picked us? RS&A won the contract?"

"You did it," Erik corrected her quietly. "And the world will soon know that you were the brilliant designer of the latest planned community."

"But, but I'm just an intern," she protested, "and the others at RS&A won't be pleased."

He quirked a brow, and she scowled. "Oh, that's right," she mumbled, "you don't care what other people think."

"Nor should you," he answered easily. "You are a promising young architect. Your vision is responsible for Charles Towne Village far surpassing the city's expectations. You can claim the Savannah project as your own …"

"No! Don't you understand, Erik? I have to work with those people! I'm the one they are going to whisper about. I'm the one who will hear the sly innuendos. I'm the one …"

Erik silenced her with a shrug. "Professional jealousy is rampant everywhere, Christine. You must learn to ignore what other people say about you. You're not responsible for their opinion of you. You and I both know the truth, and that should be enough."

Still unconvinced, Christine merely shook her head. "I don't know, Erik. You make it sound so simple."

"Look at me, Christine. Look at me! Do you really think I don't know what you're afraid of? Do you have any idea …"

"I'm so sorry, Erik," she interrupted him. "I … I wasn't thinking. I can't imagine how difficult the years since the accident have been for you."

"And I forget how young you really are," he said with a sigh.

line break

Christine woke slowly, luxuriating in the feel of Erik's arms wrapped around her, keeping her pressed close to him. _Mm…_, she thought lazily, _if I was a cat, I'd be purring …_

Erik knew the moment she awoke, and relaxed his hold slightly. "Good morning, love," he murmured, relieved that the tension he was feeling was not revealed in his voice. Christine twisted in his arms, turning so that she faced him.

"Good morning, love," she laughed as she dodged his kiss. "Give me a moment and I'll be right back," she continued as she began to pull away from him. Flushing slightly, she mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom.

Pressing his eyes closed, he hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until it left him with a whoosh. Nodding, he released his hold on her and watched with quiet satisfaction as she walked away from his bed. Lying in bed, he listened to the muffled sound of water running as Christine took care of her morning ablutions.

Erik pressed a kiss to her forehead as she slipped back into his arms. When he pressed her beneath him and took her once more, he felt the acknowledgement of their love for one another in every sigh and shift of her body.

* * *

"Christine, we need to discuss this," Erik announced one morning a few days later.

"Hmmm?" she asked. "Discuss what?"

"The press releases concerning Colonial Park Village."

"What's to discuss? RS&A was awarded the contract – can't you re-use the PR from the Charles Towne Village project?"

"Colonial Park Village was your brainchild, and I intend for the world to know that."

"No, Erik. I was just doing my job …"

"A job which is well-done merits commendation."

"You know, and that's enough for me. I don't need public accolades."

"Perhaps not. But, a press release, properly worded, may go a long way in preventing the gossip that you fear."

Shaking her head, Christine disagreed. "Giving me public credit is only going to make things worse, Erik. Please, announce the new project as you would any other."

"You are no longer concerned about what people will think?"

"Unfortunately, where my professional life is concerned, I will probably always be concerned about what other people think. If you give me public acclaim, other employees at RS&A are going to resent me. I guess I would rather have to deal with sly innuendos from the gossip-mongers than with jealous co-workers."

"If you are certain …"

"I am," she answered with a smile. "RS&A is one of the best architectural firms in the country; I do not want to cause discord in the ranks."

"Many more projects like these, and you won't be able to stop the public acclaim," he predicted.

"I won't pretend I don't want that, Erik. What professional doesn't want to be recognized for excellence in their field? But, I'm not seeking it out, and I don't want my 'success' to be at RS&A's expense."

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Erik continued to work on the opera she inspired. Kyle recommended a young lyricist, and he and Erik spent long hours on the libretto. Christine found herself humming snatches of the music as she moved through her day. Erik did not want her working on the Colonial Park project until they returned to Savannah, so she worked on decorating the house they would share.

At Patrick O'Donnell's recommendation, she contacted an interior design house which specialized in restoring historic Savannah homes. Christine and Babs Schmidt hit it off instantly. After a brief consultation with Erik, who assured her that he trusted her instincts, Christine selected an elegant color palette of subtle golds and muted reds for the public areas of the house. She was more whimsical on the second floor, and decorated one bedroom in a creamy yellow, another in a soft sage, and the third in blue. She could not, however, decide what she wanted for the third floor master suite.

Babs suggested a creamy white room in which the linens were highlighted. She sent Christine samples of raw silk in jewel tones, but Christine did not like the stark contrast. Babs also saw the possibility for a nursery on the third floor, and suggested a pastel color palette for the smaller bedroom.

Christine was torn. She respected Babs abilities, and loved the ideas she presented for the other floors of the house, but she hated the third floor. Erik watched with growing amusement as Christine spent hours online, searching for the perfect master suite. "It's only paint," he reminded her from time to time. "It's not a lifelong commitment. If you don't like it, we can change it."

Christine knew that he was ostensibly talking about the color scheme, but his words "not a lifelong commitment" chilled her, and she wrapped her arms protectively around herself. Nodding finally, she emailed Babs and told her she wanted the third floor to echo the public rooms. Dull golds and muted reds would lend a sophisticated air to the room, and hopefully help her to remember there was no commitment.


End file.
